


Prodigal Son

by AzarDarkstar



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Complete, F/M, Friendship, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Other, Red String of Fate, Romance, Soul Society Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 21:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 44,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzarDarkstar/pseuds/AzarDarkstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journey was long and troublesome. But nowhere near as important as the destination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anywhere But Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Las Noches was not home; this was just some place that he was living. (#20: The Road Home.)

Hitsugaya Toushirou was dying.

Gin knew that he was. Could feel the blood gushing from the numerous wounds in the his flesh. Especially the large, diagonal slash directly beneath his fingertips.

He sent out a tingle of reiatsu, an attempt at healing kidoh, and he watched as the blood slowed significantly but didn't stop. Just as he knew it wouldn't. Gin was a mediocre healer at best. That had always been Retsu-chan's specialty, not his.

Still, it was the best he could do, good enough for now. Hopefully, it'd hold this time, last until he could get help.

It was the only chance Hitsugaya had.

Gin shifted him in his arms, carefully tucking him underneath his chin.

Gin's side ached, a gift of his own injuries as blood soaked into his robes. But he ignored that as he continued on his way, using shunpo as quickly as he ever had. He hurried down the deserted hallways, taking the lesser used paths on the way to the hidden exit only he knew about.

He couldn't summon a senkaimon or even use a Garganta inside the fortress itself or the area around it. Another one of Aizen's brilliant ideas, a means to prevent both invasion and the Arrancar from running amuck. Not that Gin could blame him with that whole Grimmjow fiasco.

At the time, it'd seemed like a good idea. Now, he was silently cursing his foul luck.

He mentally stiffened as he turned the corner, hating the way Hitsugaya's blood was such a contrast to everything around him. He hated how his very weak breathing didn't even echo in the empty corridors. Hated how the person in his arms felt cooler and less alive than the dead air around them.

Of course, that wasn't even saying how much he hated Las Noches itself.

This was not home; this was just some place that he was living.

Home was Seireitei. Home was where he and Rangiku would sit for hours, talking and drinking and laughing. Home was where Izuru gave him that nervous smile of his and brought him tea just the way he liked it. Home was where he could wander, visiting each division and being all but thrown out on his ear by half of them. Home was where his friends were, where his family was, where Hitsugaya should be.

Gin shook the thought away as he went down a flight of stairs and then a long corridor. He stopped halfway through, letting his reiatsu pool in his palm and running his hand across a blank stretch of wall. Instantly, an opening appeared, and he ducked inside with the doorway vanishing behind him. Gin hurried down the shadowed and sloping hall, heading for the faint light at the very end.

Hitsugaya trembled and moaned in his arms, and if possible, Gin went even faster. He raced to the exit to emerge onto a dune and quickly stretching out his senses for anyone nearby.

Stark was close, but the Arrancar couldn't have cared less about Gin, his passenger, or what they were doing. He was too busy napping on a nearby ridge.

Gin gave a sigh of relief, even as he put as much distance between himself and the fortress behind them. He'd already killed enough Arrancar in his rescue attempt for Aizen to be far beyond irritated, and the man would be apoplectic if he took out another Espada along the way.

His side throbbed even fiercer as he climbed a dune, and his breath hitched in his throat as he felt some of his skin give way. The trickle of blood became a steady stream.

Gin didn't even pause for air. He simply grasped Hitsugaya even closer to his chest. But that just elicited another groan.

"Hold on," he murmured. "I'm goin' as fast as I can. But damn if ya haven't got heavy since I've been gone."

Gin weakly snorted at that. He wondered how he always managed to end up in this kind of situation. What a time to switch sides, he decided. What a time to have an epiphany about what was really important.

He'd had doubts before. Particularly when Aizen had almost killed Hitsugaya the first time. But his former captain had spared him, a knowing gleam in his eyes as he glanced at Gin.

Things were different now.

Gin had no idea how Aizen had even managed this. The last he had heard, Hitsugaya had returned to Seireitei after that abortive mission to the living world, but he'd obviously left or been taken directly from there. Not that it was really important now. All that mattered was getting him away, getting him the help he needed to live.

Gin glanced around, seeing Las Noches in the distance but nothing else. Nothing but sand and the lonely crescent moon in the sky.

He should be far enough away now. A fact that was confirmed when he successfully took a Garganta, depositing himself down the street from the Urahara Shouten, the one place he might not be killed on sight. Another swift shunpo, and he was just outside the building.

The two children out front gaped for an instant before springing into defensive positions. Within seconds, Urahara was there, cane already released to zanpakutou form. Undoubtedly, the man had sensed Gin's reiatsu, which he hadn't bothered or even wanted to hide.

Urahara took a step forward but hesitated. His brain was finally registering what was in front of him, and surprise flashed across his stubbly lips.

Gin knew that he had to be a sight to see: half-dead Hitsugaya in his arms, blood all over his white robes, desperate expression on his face.

"Please," he said, all trace of his normal humor and familiarity gone. "Please, help 'im. I can't-"

Gin didn't even get a chance to finish before Urahara was calling for someone. Then, a large man came barreling out of the back of the shop, and the next few hours passed in a whirl of worry, his heart in his throat as Urahara's assistant worked his magic.

And indeterminable amount of time later, Hitsugaya slept in a guest room. Of course, he was swathed in so many bandages that he was barely recognizable bulk beneath the blankets, but he was alive.

Gin sat on the floor next to his futon, resting as ordered. He merely watched his companion, one of Hitsugaya's hands clutched in his, head lowered. He was exhausted. Tired beyond belief.

Urahara-san observed them from the open doorway, eyes unreadable under his hat. There was a noise in the hallway, and he turned away before looking back. He studied Gin for another minute and then finally nodded to himself.

"We'd like to ask you some questions," the man said softly, a sympathetic cast to his face. "When you're ready," he added in an even gentler tone. "Take your time."

Gin made a small noise of agreement as he threaded his free hand through soft hair. Behind him, he faintly heard Urahara-san slide the door shut.

Gin knew that he might as well get it over with. The quicker the better. Then, he could return to his vigil.

He stroked Hitsugaya's hair one final time and squeezed his hand. Without even thinking about it, he pressed his lips to Hitsugaya's forehead. Gin was about to pull away when the hand in his twitched and oh-so-barely squeezed back.

Gin couldn't help the tingle of uncertainty that shot through his spine as a pair of blue-green eyes opened and blearily blinked. His heart pounded in his chest as Hitsugaya gazed up at him for what seemed like an eternity.

"Ichimaru?" he whispered hoarsely. "So… it wasn't a dream?" He coughed before he could even receive an answer.

Gin released his hand and reached for the pitcher of water that Tessai-san had thoughtfully left out. He poured a glass and mutely helped Hitsugaya drink it, grateful for the show of trust when he didn't flinched away.

"Thanks," Hitsugaya said after he was done and was lying back wearily. "For everything… Gin."

His lips twitched in a ghost of a smile, his fingers reaching for Gin's. He didn't quite make it, however. His eyes slipped shut once more.

A true grin blossomed on Gin's face as he reclaimed the boy's hand.

"Yer welcome."

Hitsugaya didn't respond. He'd already fallen asleep.

Gin didn't mind though. He simply squeezed the hand in his, content to sit there. He was in no hurry to leave. To explain to Urahara-san and his cohorts about what had happened.

For the first time in ages, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of these are interrelated but are in nothing even vaguely resembling chronological order.


	2. Red Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come the dawn, his world would shatter and be reduced to ashes. The universe as he knew it would cease to exist. (#8: Our Own World.)

There were things in this world beyond dark and light, beyond good and evil, beyond anything humanity had ever dreamed.

And as he stared out into the darkness of his room at the Urahara Shouten, Toushirou saw more clearly than he ever had before. He knew intimately the path before him, and for once, he didn't give a damn that it was forbidden, that it was against the law. He was going to do what he wanted for a change, do what he thought was best.

Ichimaru Gin was going to survive. Come hell itself, he was going to live.

Seireitei, of course, wouldn't allow that. Even with his change of heart, even if he sealed his power, Ichimaru was a dead man. Once a traitor, always a traitor, and Yamamoto wasn't in a forgiving mood. All of his mercy had been spent on his two star pupils, and there was no way he'd spare any for a man he detested so much.

As he studied the sleeping figure next to him, Toushirou idly wondered how long it'd take them to realize what Ichimaru had done. He speculated on when they'd realize that he had been rescued from Aizen's fortress, when they'd finally comprehend that he wasn't coming back. Not now. And if things went the way he hoped, not ever.

Already, the seal on his reiatsu was broken, courtesy of Yoruichi-san and Urahara and a liberal amount of some unknown devices. He could feel Hyourinmaru in all his icy glory, coiling around the very core of his soul without the heavy and cumbersome block in the way. They were closer now than they'd ever been since he'd been promoted and the full extent of his powers locked away.

He had Ichimaru to thank for it. Toushirou had him to thank for his new-found freedom, for his very life. Undoubtedly, Aizen would've tired of him soon enough but only after breaking him completely.

Yet, here he was. Mostly recovered and relatively content. An odd thing for him really.

Of course, Toushirou had awarded his savior appropriately after he had been conscious enough to appreciate the man's efforts. He'd kissed Ichimaru on the cheek, flushing redder than Abarai's hair the entire time and not quite understanding what had possessed him to do such a thing. Being drugged up to his eyeballs on whatever concoction Tessai-san had force-fed him didn't count.

Anticlimactic to be certain, but for all that he felt for this man, Toushirou was still rather new at this. It wasn't everyday that his oh-so-secret crush turned traitor of the Gotei 13 switched sides yet again just to save him. It wasn't everyday that he realized he might just be in love. Probably had been for longer than he cared to admit, even to himself.

And damn it all, if Hyourinmaru wasn't off snickering in some half-hidden corner of his mind, the words " _I told you so_ " all but hovering over them both.

Still, Toushirou hadn't known initially what the tightening in his chest meant as he watched the expression on Ichimaru's face shift from warily hopeful to outright pleased. However, he understood it now. It was a warning, a caution to himself, his pledge to this man should the unthinkable happen.

Soul Society will be coming for them both. Toushirou just wondered who'd they send.

Would it be kind Ukitake, who'd despair what he had to do but do it nonetheless? Would it flirtatious and flamboyant Kyouraku, who'd realize the truth of why he'd abandoned his post and sympathize with them even as he dragged them back? Would it be indifferent Kuchiki, who knew better than anyone what they were going through but would still do his duty?

Would they send one of the others? Komamura? Soifon? Perhaps the captain-commander would come himself?

Toushirou didn't know, and truthfully, he really didn't care. The outcome would still be the same.

He knew that Urahara and his cohorts would protect them. For all that he was a sleazy pervert and a manipulative bastard, the man still had a heart. He comprehended that love made people do crazy things. Better than anyone, Urahara knew that everyone made mistakes, made choices that they'd do anything to change.

In truth, there were more than two sides to this conflict, and he and Ichimaru had inevitably and irrevocably severed ties with their original allies. They'd thrown their lot in with a pair of disgraced former captains, a substitute Shinigami, a sew-happy Quincy, an Arrancar toddler, several humans with strange reiatsu, and a whole host of other odd balls.

The world might never survive.

Of course, Toushirou doubted he'd survive his lieutenant's wrath when she learned the truth of the matter and his defection. Perhaps she'd kill both he and Ichimaru and save the Gotei 13 the trouble.

As much as he wished things were different, Toushirou knew what he had to do. He'd never really wanted to be a captain in the first place; he'd only wanted room to soar, to be free with the dragon inside of him. His promotion had been just as much a prison as the one Aizen had locked him in.

In the end, it wasn't really a choice at all. He had so little to lose and the entire world to gain. Undoubtedly, Yamamoto would have an aneurysm when he learned that he had lost yet another captain.

But that was a worry for tomorrow. For now, he was content to lie there in the semi-dark, listening to the soft sounds of Ichimaru's breathing from the next futon over. He was happy simply to watch the rise and fall of the man's chest, his face relaxed in sleep as it never was in waking.

For once, even Toushirou's perpetual scowl was forgotten.

Come the dawn, his world would shatter and be reduced to ashes. The universe as he knew it would cease to exist. And in its wake, there was an ocean of possibilities, a thousand chances to be more than he ever imagined. But he couldn't bring himself to care as their room began to lighten around him, Shinsou and Hyourinmaru gleaming despite the shadows.

And as the red light streaked through the window, Hitsugaya Toushirou thought that he had never felt more alive.


	3. Solitary Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first meeting wasn’t the stuff of legends. (#1: Look Over Here.)

Their first meeting wasn't the stuff of legends, not remotely magical, not noteworthy in any sense of the word. It wasn't really much of a meeting at all, more like a glance at each other. Just a simple head-nod in passing as they brushed by one another in the streets of Seireitei, the kind where there was some vague sort of recognition between individuals in positions of power.

Of course, everyone knew Ichimaru Gin, the fox-faced captain of the third division. With his strange smile and even stranger habits. And for all that he was barely over four feet tall, it was hard to miss Hitsugaya Toushirou, the prodigy of the fifth division. Who'd already risen from the tenth-seat to the fifth less than a decade after he'd graduated from the academy.

Still, Gin might've stopped to chat or even introduce himself, especially with the way Aizen-taichou talked about the boy and his potential, but Hitsugaya chose that very instant to turn away. Gin idly watched him walk up to an unaware Hinamori-chan before going on his way, completely dismissing them from his mind and merely shrugging off the missed opportunity. If he really wanted that badly to meet Hitsugaya, all he had to do was invite himself over to tea and have his former captain introduce them.

Besides, it wasn't as if he was vitally important to his future or anything.

Subsequent meetings were merely variations of the first, and by the time Gin actually got around giving Hitsugaya more than a passing thought, it was over four years later. Hitsugaya was now the third-seat of the sixth division, and Gin vaguely recalled that Aizen-taichou had mentioned his recent promotion and squad change. Apparently, he'd been unwilling to steal a position out from under Hinamori or to take a higher one if it meant preventing her own advancement. The opening under Kuchiki Byakuya must've been something of a godsend then.

Still, none of this really mattered to Gin at all, and it probably never would have if not for Hinamori Momo herself. Sweet, oblivious, slightly stalkerish Hinamori.

Gin was merely minding his own business one chilly winter day, aimlessly wandering around a division that wasn't his, when he happened across them in a secluded courtyard. Hitsugaya had a box of his possessions with him, apparently still in the process of moving, but Hinamori didn't seem pleased with this new arrangement. In fact, she looked distinctly unhappy, a frown marring her normally cheerful features. The two appeared to be in deep conversation, and Hitsugaya was gazing at his companion with an earnest expression, attention solely focused on her. Hinamori-chan, on the other hand, was shifting from foot to foot, practically dancing on the spot as the snow softly fell all around them.

Vaguely interested, Gin changed directions. He drifted into the shadows, head tilting to the side as he caught the thread their conversation.

"-don't see why you're leaving us," Hinamori said as her breath clouded the air. "I'm sure Kuchiki-taichou is good at his job and a fine captain, but he's so cold, always so formal."

Hitsugaya shifted uncomfortably, box awkward in his hands. "There was an opening," he replied simply, as though that explained everything.

"There are openings in our division. I mean," she clarified, "with Kira-kun under Ichimaru-taichou now, his position's open. You could've just as easily been our fourth-seat," the girl added with hurt filling her voice. "I don't see why you had to transfer to another division to have the exact same spot."

"Third," he corrected softly as the breeze tugged at his shihakushou. "I'm the third-seat. We're the same rank."

Hinamori didn't seem to notice his words. "I know that you're eager to succeed, for promotion, but-"

"I'm not," Hitsugaya responded, cutting her off. "It's not about promotion. I just… I need room to be me."

Hinamori looked at him with complete incomprehension. "And you can do that here. Just talk to Aizen-taichou. Tell him that you changed your mind and want to stay. He'll work everything out with Kuchiki-taichou."

"I don't want it to be worked out," he replied, and there was a hint of some strain in his voice, something desperate to be understood. Hitsugaya shifted the box in his hand again. "It's not like this doesn't make us friends anymore."

The girl was stubborn, however.

"It's not the same..."

But Hinamori trailed off as her gaze happened to catch sight of another Shinigami, some nameless face from another division, hurry by with papers in his hands. Her eyes widened.

"Ai! Oh, no! How could I've forgotten?" Her face was tight with distress as she turned back to Hitsugaya. "This is really important, so I have to go. But talk to Aizen-taichou, okay? He'll fix it."

"I don't want him to fix it," Hitsugaya stated with some frustration, but Gin could tell that she hadn't even heard him.

"You think he'll be upset that I kept him waiting?" Hinamori asked. She chewed on her lip with growing concern, and her body twitched, as if in a great hurry to rush to her captain's side.

Hitsugaya just stared at her, unreadable expression on his face. There was something in the way he watched Hinamori in that moment, something almost indescribable. It was a mixture of so many different emotions that a casual observer would be hard pressed to ever sort it all out, if they even noticed in the first place.

But Gin recognized that look, knew it better than he'd ever admit to anyone. He was well acquainted with that feeling, knew it in the same way that he knew he'd never be anything more than her friend.

" _Look over here_ ," it said. " _Look at me. See me._ "

And someone had. Just not the person Hitsugaya wanted.

Hinamori hadn't even noticed. She was too busy trying to get away.

"I hope he's not disappointed," she murmured to herself and moved as if to leave before belatedly realizing that she had nearly forgotten someone. "I'm really sorry, but I have to get going. We'll have to meet up for your birthday, Shirou-chan," she hastily put in. "It's in the next few days. We'll talk then, but I really have to go. Aizen-taichou's expecting me."

And with that, she was gone.

"My birthday was last week," Hitsugaya whispered to her back, and his words almost lost to the wind and snow.

But Gin still heard, and he watched Hitsugaya, seeing the breeze playfully kiss his hair and twist at his robes as he stared after his friend. And just as Hitsugaya blinked slowly and turned away, Gin saw something reflected in those vivid eyes.

Hurt.

In that instant, the world shifted, and Gin felt an unfathomable kinship. An understanding born of shared experience and heartache. He mutely watched as Hitsugaya slowly left, passing by within several feet but not seeing Gin at all. For one brief and insane moment, Gin actually thought of speaking, of reaching out and grabbing Hitsugaya as he passed.

But it was all too fleeting a feeling. Instead, he simply remained in the shadows, watching until Hitsugaya left altogether. Only after he was gone did Gin finally move, but even then, he unconsciously looked in the direction Hitsugaya had gone, fighting down the unexpected urge to follow.

As the snow fell all around him, he had the distinct notion that something important had just happened. Something vital and fundamental and altogether unsettling. He couldn't shake the feeling that a change had just occurred, that reality had shifted, even if only a little.

And only years later would he realize just how right he was.


	4. The Waking Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He feels like he has just been through the gauntlet, tested for his captaincy again, and battled his inner Hollow all at the same time. (#3: Jolt!)

He's had this dream before.

They're kissing, slowly at first, tentative and searching. The difference in height is noticeable, but with some stretching and stooping, even that obstacle falls away. A tongue explores his lips, hesitantly tracing every inch before delving into his mouth and doing the same. He sighs with affection and something all together like longing, arms pulling the warm body in front of him even closer. And the need for air becomes pressing, but he only pulls back enough to breathe once before diving back in.

Fingers play with his hair, sliding through easily and tracing down his neck. They wander around the edge of his collar, unconsciously teasing, and trail to his clothed shoulders. He smiles into their continued kiss as fingertips ghost along his chest, pausing at his waist. They toy with his obi, tugging at the knot and gradually loosening it.

The tempo picks up with a sense of urgency that wasn't there earlier. The kiss becomes heated, no longer languid and hesitant, uncertainty fading away along with conscious thought. And now, his tongue also darts out, meeting its mate in a seductively dance as they drift to the futon just behind him.

When his feet meet the edge, their speed only increases. There are lips and teeth and tongue, pants and moans, pupils dilated in the low light. Hands rove relentlessly, pulling at his clothes, slipping beneath to slide over skin. And he's not idle either, already freeing his companion of his top. More clothing is discarded, and soon but not soon enough, there's nothing between them.

He feels electrified, reiryoku coiling and twining. The temperature of the room has dropped. But he's hot, skin on fire.

All he can see are a pair of luminous blue-green eyes gazing up at him with something akin to wonder.

Then, the world shifts, and suddenly, they're somewhere else. His clothing's back, clinging to him in a distinctly uncomfortable fashion. But he hardly even notices, too focused on the chill of dread sweeping through his stomach. He reaches for Shinsou instinctively, grateful that his zanpakutou is with him, even as he sees his companion mirror the action.

They've no warning, barely any time to react before they're overrun. He doesn't know who he's fighting. Or perhaps it's more like he doesn't know who he's not fighting. Arrancar. Shinigami. Vizard. Hollow. All of them. None of them. What does it matter? As soon as one opponent is defeated another takes their place, wearing him down, making him bleed.

Somehow, they're separated in the chaos, and the only thing that keeps him from panicking is the feel of reiatsu in the distance and Hyourinmaru roaring overhead. He painstakingly works in that direction, not knowing how much time has passed when he finally sees them again, just a glimpse through the crowd.

Icy reiatsu is flickering from the strain, and he redoubles his efforts with a ferocity that should frighten him. Shinsou is a blur, dancing through the air so fast that even he has trouble tracking the movement. He can hear Hyourinmaru howl in the background, knows that Toushirou must be injured, but there are just too many enemies between them.

The dragon above unexpectedly shatters, ice chunks coming down like rain. His heart stops as familiar reiatsu flickers one final time and disappears altogether. A void is left in its place, an empty area where the boy once was and never will be again.

All he can see is white hair soaked with red, framing a lifeless face. But soon, even that's gone, lost to the hordes pressing down on him.

He doesn't even bother to fight any more, Shinsou dropping uselessly to his feet, and lets the end come.

And with a jolt, he wakes, heart thudding in his chest. Gin sucks in air like he hasn't breathed in days, not getting enough no matter how hard he tries. His skin is clammy, cold, the feel of sweat trickling down his spine doing nothing to calm the blood pounding through his veins. And his hair is plastered to his face, making it even more difficult to see in the dim light. There's a coppery taste in his mouth, a stinging pain in his lip where he bit himself to keep from crying out.

His limbs are jerky, but somehow, he stumbles over to his roommate's futon, needing to see for himself that he's there. And sure enough, he is. Curled up on his side with one hand tucked beneath his cheek, sleeping on peacefully as Gin slowly sinks to the floor beside him and attempts to calm his racing heart.

He feels like he's just been through the gauntlet, tested for his captaincy again, and battled his inner Hollow all at the same time. He's weak and shaky, so excruciatingly tired, but Gin knows he won't be able to go back to sleep, not tonight. He can't get the images out of his head, replaying them again and again in some horrific parody of real life.

Gin makes it back to his own futon sometime later and slips beneath the covers, eyes still open. He stares out into the dimness, watching as Toushirou rolls over in his sleep to face him, listening eagerly to his every exhale. Each one is another reassurance of his safety and health, a balm to his battered soul.

But even that can't calm him completely, can't ease the tightness in his chest or the burn behind his eyes. Even that can't stop the coiling fear in his belly, the nameless terror creeping down his spine.

And he just lays there for hours, hands still faintly trembling, and waits for the sun to rise.


	5. Contra Mundum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As far as first kisses went, Hitsugaya Toushirou was rather embarrassed to admit that his was a mistake more than anything. (#30: Kiss.)

As far as first kisses went, Hitsugaya Toushirou was rather embarrassed to admit that his was a mistake more than anything. Just an unthinking press of lips after a fight with a trio of Arrancar, an unconscious reassurance that Ichimaru was alright. He didn't even realize what he'd done until they were back at Urahara's place.

The recollection alone was enough to make his face redden even days later.

His second kiss was intentional. And if by intentional, he meant that Ichimaru had been centimeters away, Toushirou's breath ghosting across his skin. Only to spring away as Tessai-san and Urahara magically appeared next to them with matching maniac grins.

The third, fourth, and even fifth passed in similar fashion. Plagued by interruptions and near misses. A leering Yoruichi-san. A thoroughly embarrassed Kurosaki. And on one notable occasion, a passerby on the street, who'd taken a single look at them and called the police.

By number six, Toushirou knew that he was pressing his luck. But he honestly didn't care by this point.

For once, they were alone. A lull in the daily insanity that was the Urahara Shouten. Everyone else was busy. Gone. Away. Not there. And that was all that really mattered.

Still, Toushirou hesitated. Awkward and unsure as he gazed at his companion.

He was inexperienced. Obviously. Rather young and too preoccupied to have really bothered with anything of the sort before. And having the body of a child while surrounded by adults hadn't helped.

Ichimaru, on the other hand, was guarded behind his smile. He was too careful and cautious to let anyone so close. There were secrets, dark and deep, from his time before Matsumoto. From a time of violence and powerlessness and agony. For all that he was older, Toushirou had no idea what Ichimaru had done before and with whom. If it had even been willingly. He was originally from the seventy-third district, after all. People were known to sell themselves for survival or to be outright forced.

But Ichimaru moved closer then, invading his personal space and thoroughly distracting him. He was hyper aware of the man standing just in front of him, but all Toushirou could think of was that Ichimaru smelled faintly of flowers. A strange thing really for any male but Kyouraku or possibly Kuchiki Byakuya. And for the life of him, he couldn't fathom why other than perhaps that Inoue had been doing their laundry again.

Yet, even that strange notion disappeared as Ichimaru's face came closer to his, hold tightening on his forearms. Breath ghosted across his skin, and his eyelids lowered on their own accord.

Ichimaru was too tall. He was too short. They bumped noses, lips barely brushing before they could adjust. It was clumsy and awkward and fumbling… and entirely too sweet. A reflection of their relationship as thoughts flitted away, and they instinctively molded together. Toushirou's hands unconsciously came to rest on Ichimaru's hips, and fingers were now on his chin, tilting his head up.

Of course, Inoue chose that very moment to walk through the door.

"Dinner's r- Eep!"

They simply ignored her, not even pausing for a second. Beyond the point of caring or embarrassment.

In the background, Toushirou heard her scamper off, met with the sounds of Kurosaki questioning her hasty return. That was followed by Urahara's sing-song voice and Yoruichi-san's annoying laughter. Then by the voices of several others.

But all that melted away. Chased off by the feel of lips on his and the pressing need for air. Lost to the end of the sixth kiss and the beginning of the seventh.


	6. The Space Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes were the perfect shade between blue and green, the color of glacial ice. (#15: Perfect Blue.)

His eyes were the perfect shade between blue and green, the color of glacial ice. They gleamed with far more knowledge and sorrow than should be possible, gazed back at the man across from him with a nameless shadow in their frosty depths.

He knew that Ukitake had always been fond of those eyes. More especially, the person who went with him. The young captain who he smiled at and doted on. The near-boy who he considered a beloved colleague, protégé even. The exact one who had been missing for over a month, only to be found relatively whole and hearty at the Urahara Shouten.

The very same person who was even now steadily avoiding his gaze, studying his teacup with an intensity that was undoubtedly worrisome from Ukitake's end. The fact that the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees in the last few heartbeats didn't help matters. Frost rimmed the teapot between them, and neither had to even look at the table to see that everything on it was a solid block of ice by this point.

But despite all that, Toushirou's voice was steady and even.

"No."

Ukitake blinked. "Come again?" He stared, practically gaping, certain that he had heard incorrectly.

Toushirou finally looked up. "I said no," he repeated in a very calm tone and lifted his chin. "I'm not returning to Soul Society at this time."

"What? Why?" Ukitake corrected himself. "I don't understand."

Toushirou shifted. "It doesn't matter. It's immaterial." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But I'm staying here."

Truthfully, he'd been expecting this moment for over a week now. Ever since Kuchiki the younger had appeared, asking Urahara if he knew anything about their missing captain's whereabouts. The man had somehow managed to deflect her inquiries, both of his guests safely hidden in a shielded room of the shop. But she hadn't seemed entirely convinced, especially with the recent upsurge in Arrancar activity.

And of course, the old man would send Ukitake to fetch his wayward captain from what everyone assumed was his recovery bed. But at least, they knew that he'd been abducted and wasn't a deserter. Well, not originally at any rate. Still, Toushirou didn't know if he should feel relief or anxiety at his predicament. It might've been better if the Shinigami thought he had simply abandoned his post. That way, he wouldn't be in this current mess, trying to convince Ukitake that he really wasn't ready to return to Seireitei.

"What is this really about, Toushirou?" the older man suddenly questioned.

And at the use of his given name, he glanced up again. Toushirou hadn't even realized his gaze had fallen

"There's something I have to do," he evaded. "Something important. I can't come back yet."

'Or ever,' he added silently.

Fortunately, his companion was not privy to that addendum.

Ukitake seemed unhappy with the answer given, and his mouth was set in a line. His own eyes were dark and unreadable. Toushirou was on the verge of adding something else, of trying to explain without really explaining, but Ukitake beat him to it.

"I'll tell them that you're still recovering."

Toushirou closed his mouth with an audible snap as he blinked in bewilderment. Ukitake gave him a soft and barely there smile.

"Retsu will probably show up within a few days, but it's the best that I can do for you," the man said slowly. "Just… whatever it is, do it quickly."

He hesitated for a moment, obviously debating with himself over something. Nevertheless, Ukitake rose to his feet and stepped for the door, pausing as he passed by. He put a hand on Toushirou's shoulder and let it settle there for a moment before giving a squeeze.

"Please just be safe."

And with that, he was gone.

Toushirou heard him pause in the hallway to speak with Kurosaki and Urahara-san, but he was too distracted to make out what they were saying. He just listened as Ukitake exchanged pleasantries and then finally departed. His ears didn't fail to miss the sound of Ichimaru leaving his hiding place sometime later or his footfalls as he entered the room.

"Yer still here, so I take it things went well," Ichimaru commented by way of greeting.

He slid into the place just vacated, taking an unused cup from the tray, but he hesitated on pouring tea as he noticed the ice lining everything in his immediate area. A quick kidoh to the pot solved that problem.

Toushirou's eyes locked on him. "Well enough," he replied gruffly.

Ichimaru tilted his head. "Meanin' that they're gonna send somebody else in a few days. That's as long as Jyuu-chan can get fer ya."

His companion nodded but remained silent as Ichimaru tapped his empty cup with his fingertip. Both of them studied the tabletop lost in thought.

"What're you gonna tell them?" Ichimaru asked after several moments, a faint hitch to his voice. His grin was fixed on his face, but it was too wide, stretching his lips farther than should be possible.

"I don't know." Toushirou sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Maybe that I'm staying to help Kurosaki. Or that I need Inoue to help heal more. Or… something." He made a vague gesture.

"They migh' buy it," Ichimaru allowed, though there was a hint of doubt in his tone.

"Maybe," Toushirou replied, but he was less than enthused. "I don't know."

The temperature again dropped, a definite sign of his frustration. Ichimaru even saw his breath as he exhaled.

"Hey." He reached across the table and snagged Toushirou's hand. "We'll think of somethin'. It'll be alright. No need ta scowl. What would ya do if it got stuck that way?"

His companion snorted.

"That's only a myth. Besides, I never took you for an optimist."

"One'a us has ta be." Ichimaru pulled their hands toward him and squeezed tightly. "With ya so frowny all the time, it falls ta me ta smile." His grin transformed into something wicked, and he impulsively pressed his lips to Toushirou's knuckles.

Toushirou tried and failed not to flush pink. He awkwardly pulled away, skin tingling as he clenched his hand into a fist. He fought down the sudden jolt that raced through his nerve endings and the heat in his cheeks.

Gin just smirked and moved to pour them tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows directly after part 2, _Red Dawn_.


	7. Free Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There once was a boy, who was more dragon than human. All he’d wanted to do was soar. (#13: Excessive Chain.)

There once was a boy, who was more dragon than human. All he’d wanted to do was soar. To be able to spread his wings and fly. But the things that bound him down held him more tightly than chains ever could.

Captaincy. Responsibility. Expectation. Pride. Duty.

Until there was no more time for flying, for diving through the clouds. And the only thing he could do was watch the sky through his office window.

And sometimes… most of the time, Hitsugaya Toushirou honestly wished he'd never been made captain. Wished that he'd never shown Hinamori his bankai. Wished that she hadn’t immediately run and told Aizen.

He hadn’t been himself in so long. Prodigy and tensai and Hitsugaya-taichou. So many labels that he wondered when he'd stopped being Toushirou. When he'd ceased to be his grandmother’s boy, her helper and best friend. When the ice was no longer a fascination but a mask, a shield to hide behind.

But such thoughts were too time-consuming. Took up too much of the precious seconds he had to himself. The only real free time he had aside from sleeping was walking to and from work. Just a scant few minutes to finally breathe.

And of course that time would be over just as he was settling himself. He walked into the tenth division headquarters with a clear scowl painted on his face, though it was habit more than anything. Not like there was anyone else around to witness it this early in the morning. Simply anticipation for the mess of documents he'd undoubtedly find on his desk. And most of them would belong to his lieutenant, a steady stream of backlog that he could never quite finish by himself.

Toushirou strode through the building, coming to the outer office that should have been occupied by Matsumoto. His third-seat normally manned it instead since his lieutenant often couldn’t be bothered. Plus, she seemed to think it her personal right to lounge on his sofa.

He slid the door to his office open and turned on the lights. Surprisingly, the paperwork on his desk was in a very neat stack. But he merely shook his head as he sat down and settled himself, thankful that his subordinates could at least do this right. Some days, he wondered if he was the lone source of competence in the entire division. At least among the officers.

Not that the rest of the Gotei 13 was in better shape. Else he would've kicked out the lot of them ages ago. Instead, he was stuck with misspelled memos, a lazy lieutenant, and general poor performance. Fixing anything was like trying to teach an old, dying, deaf, and dumb dog a new trick. Or even just to get off his ass and do something worthwhile.

An impossibility of the grandest sort.

Mind otherwise occupied, Toushirou idly got out his writing utensils and stamp and picked up the first page. Only to blink at it stupidly. The form was already filled out. Frown deepening, Toushirou went to the next paper, but it was in a similar state. So were the third and fourth. The fifth. The tenth. Every one of them.

His paperwork was done. All of it complete. Not a single sheet unmarked or unstamped.

Under further scrutiny, the handwriting was familiar, remarkably so. Definitely not Matsumoto’s. The mere thought alone laughable to the extreme. Not his third-seat’s either, and if he were a betting man, Toushirou would wager that it wasn’t anyone in his division.

Not Hinamori either. She was too wrapped up in her own boss to even care that he hadn’t had a day off in nearly a year.

Aizen then. Perhaps Ukitake. Or maybe Kyouraku had sent over Nanao-san. He couldn’t think of anyone else who'd do such a thing for him. Who'd bother to take the time.

The mystery eluded him, but Toushirou found that he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He was too stuck on the idea that he had no work. Absolutely nothing to do. Sure, there were drills, but those were one of the few things Matsumoto actually liked and was willing to do. Let her handle it for once.

But that meant only one thing. He had free time. Actual _free time_. Time in which he could do anything he wanted.

Such a novel concept. And one so beyond him that he sat at his desk in a stupefied haze for a full five minutes before hastily jumping to his feet. He was quick to reorder his completed paperwork before heading out the door. His third-seat was just coming into the outer office as he passed, but Toushirou didn’t even stop.

“You’re in charge today,” he said as he went by, smirking at the man’s stunned expression. A quick shunpo took him away before his underling could even respond.

However, he soon stopped on the roof of a division building, not entirely certain where to go. Much less what to do. He hadn’t been free like this in ages. Between running his division, training to keep his skill, doing the paperwork of two people, and a thousand other things, there was just no time.

Now that he had it, Toushirou had no idea what to do with it. Thousands of possibilities that were all shadowy and vague. He just stood there and considered as the sun rose the rest of the way above the horizon, a chilly breeze tugging at his haori.

And finally, he just stopped and breathed in the morning air. Just watched as Seireitei came awake. Felt the warm sun kissing his skin. Listened to the wind gust through the bare trees.

He didn’t know how long he stood there. Minutes. Perhaps an hour. But by the time he was done, there was a smile on his face. A genuine and real one.

Toushirou glanced back at his division, noticing his various subordinates milling about. He idly searched for a band of pink and strawberry blonde in the sea of black, already knowing that his lieutenant wouldn’t be awake for hours. Still, he almost swore that he did see a flash of silver and the whirl of a captain’s robe. Yet, that thought went out of his mind as quickly as it entered. Toushirou merely shook his head and went north along the rooftops, mind clear and centered. Steps taking him all the way to Jidanbou’s gate and the first district. Determined to make this time worthwhile.

After all, it wasn’t every day that his paperwork magically did itself.

Of course, Toushirou was extremely surprised to find the exact same thing the very next week, papers neatly finished and stacked on his desk. Or the following week. And the week after that. Month after month. Year after year. One free day a week.

One day to be himself and soar above the clouds.


	8. Future Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's written in his smile. The cast of his face. The subtle curve of his mouth. (#22: Cradle.)

Unohana Retsu is not a stupid person. She can more than see the obvious if somewhat subtle. It's a healer’s skill. The trick of knowing what others never wish to tell. Hearing the words unspoken in long pauses or the silent whispers not said.

Ichimaru Gin is in love with Hitsugaya Toushirou.

It's written in his smile. The cast of his face. The subtle curve of his mouth. The pull of his brow. The lift of his chin.

There for all the world to see if only it dares. Perhaps if it cares. So painfully obvious.

And Retsu gets an up close and personal view at every captain’s meeting. Whenever she sees them pass in the streets. At the various gatherings in Seireitei. Every single festival and tournament.

It makes her wonder why he says nothing. Chooses not to act. But then, that's such a foolish thought. Captain though he might be, Ichimaru Gin will always be considered Rukongai trash, not even worthy of the lower districts. While Hitsugaya-taichou is the boy genius. The darling of the Gotei 13. The captain-commander’s rising star.

Ichimaru-san doesn't need that kind of attention. The stares and whispered words behind his back. Things in Seireitei are… _strained_. Have been for a long time. First, the betrayal of a hundred years ago and so many captains and lieutenants lost to a crazed scientist bent on destroying all boundaries. Then, increased punishments for the smallest of infractions. Chamber 46’s increased paranoia. And Yamamoto-soutaichou’s pretended ignorance. Now, the disappearance of Kuchiki-taichou’s sister…

Retsu can’t help but feel they are on the cusp of something. Whether terrible or great she has yet to determine. She does not even know the part she will play in all of this.

But that's the future. This is the present, and if she can give even an ounce of solace, some small measure of comfort, then it means all the difference. At the end of the day, she's still a captain and has held that position longer than Kyouraku-san and Ukitake-san both. Longer than most of the others have even been alive. And she needs to do this. For these children. For all the children who aren’t her children, though she desperately wishes it were so.

She walks to the third division a woman on a mission, though to all outward appearances she's her normal tranquil self. Retsu steps into the main office and greets Kira-fukutaichou with a warm smile, glad that Ichimaru-san has taken in such a lovely but lonely boy. The lieutenant is surprised by her presence, but he hides it well enough. She is led into Ichimaru-san's private office without another word. After all, one never leaves a fellow captain waiting, most especially one as senior as her, no matter what other tasks are at hand. Retsu merely nods her thanks and takes a seat at the low table kept in the corner, watching with amusement as Ichimaru-san shoos his second away and readies the tea himself.

They make small talk. Ichimaru-taichou can be skilled at speaking without really saying anything at all when he puts his mind to it, and Retsu recognizes the defensive mechanism for what it is. She gives him her softest smile and hopes that he sees the sincerity in it. Retsu knows she's often viewed as weak. Sometimes because she's a healer. Other times because she's a woman. Yet, it's Ichimaru Gin who breaks first.

“What brings ya ‘ere today, Retsu-chan?” His tone is light and vaguely playful. A cover then. “This ain’t just a social call.”

Ah, a direct cut to the chase. No more beating around the bush as they say. Just slashing it all to the ground.

She sets down her cup and steeples her fingers. “Hitsugaya-taichou.”

Something flashes across his face, but she still catches it. A flicker of uncertainty. Mixed with dread. As though he fears what she will say. Fears that she will hurt him. Use her knowledge to inflict pain. It's a telling sign for those who have lived among the Gotei 13 far too long, who know of the nobles’ true nature. Or perhaps he carried it here from Rukongai.

“Oh, what of ‘im?” The reply is deceptively nonchalant and perfectly him.

“I believe you already know, Ichimaru-taichou,” Retsu replies, stealing a sip from her cup and then pausing to inspect it. And of course, the fact that it's painted with blue dragons is entirely coincidental.

“It’s Gin,” he returns easily. “Told ya that before.”

“A deflection, Gin?” she says just to tease him. “Surely, you can do better than that.”

“I ‘ave no idea what ya mean.” He hasn’t touched his tea for some time, and she suspects that he takes the cup to keep his hands from clenching.

There's something sad in that. Infinitely heartbreaking. That he’d think even her, who has been nothing but kind to him, would choose to cause harm.

“No,” Retsu responds with a shake of her head, “I don’t think you understand what I mean at all.” She reaches forward then and grasps his hand, tightening before he can pull away. “I'd speak to you now as one friend to another. Or if you prefer, as a mother to her beloved son.”

She feels his reiatsu spike for an instant before he harshly jerks it back in. The only proof that it even happened are the still rattling cups. And he says nothing. But that's fine. Retsu intends to do most of the talking.

“I am not a fool, dear child. I see much but say nothing. I have told no one of what I know and never will. I simply wish you to listen.” Retsu pauses to let that sink in, grip firm but gentle.

The shadows kiss his face, making it unreadable. But she knows that he has heard her and listens still.

“I know what you feel. I can see it every time you look at him.” She holds up her free hand. “Don’t deny it, dear heart. I already know. As do you. Denial will do you no good.”

He stares at her for so long that she thinks time must have surely stopped. Just studies her face, the light in her eyes. The taste of her reiatsu. Measuring her very soul. Until finally she sees him look away, and she knows that she has won.

The man sighs. “I just… He’s so much younger tha’ me. It could never work.”

“And you both are as children to me.” She squeezes his hand. “I believe that you should – as they say – go for it.”

Retsu can’t help the chuckle that escapes at his dumbfounded expression, and she uses her free hand to close his mouth with a gentle snap. This certainly isn’t her first glimpse of his eyes, but it's the longest. Those blue, blue irises just gape at her.

“Love, my boy, is always worth it. You shouldn't let such an opportunity go to waste. It is said that fortune favors the bold, after all.” Her eyes sparkle up at him.

He makes a strangled sound.

“Just trust me, dear heart. I won't lead you astray.” Her amusement is strong enough to fill the entire room.

“I…” He looks away. “I’ll think ‘bout it.”

“That is all I ask.” She gives his hand one final pat and rises to her feet. “A good day to you, Ichimaru-taichou. Gin,” Retsu corrects. “And thank you for the tea.”

With that, she walks out of the office and then the division itself. A serene smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes.

And Ichimaru Gin is left with a great deal to think about.


	9. Chaotic Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he’s never been in love. In this place where age isn’t measured in years but experience. (#25: Fence.)

Sometimes, Hitsugaya Toushirou wonders. He thinks about possibilities and potential. About could've been and would've been. Should've been. About how his life could’ve turned out. If he hadn’t been a captain. If he’d never become a Shinigami. If he had only waited in Rukongai a little longer.

Where would he be? What would he be like? Would he still be this cold individual, frosty from lack of friends and affection? Or would he simply be cool, like snow that is fierce and then melts away? Would he be taller? Tougher? Funnier? Freer? Softer? Safer?

Would he still regret?

And a part of Toushirou thinks that he'll one day come to hate this place. Perhaps he already does. Hates that Aizen could be so kind to him, to make him feel so welcome. That Tousen and he could have tea for hours and speak of honor and justice. That Ichimaru’s eyes could follow him no matter where he went. That his attention made something inside Toushirou tremble and beg for more.

He has no friends but subordinates. No family but his dead grandmother and a half-crazed not-sister. What remains of his fellow captains treat him like a curious diversion and not an equal. He has the last to pick any new recruits and gets the cast-offs from other divisions. And his only missions are those no one else wants. Yet, he manages to persevere without any acknowledgment.

Toushirou isn’t a captain. More like a trained pet. A child playing dress up.

If this is heaven, then he doesn’t see how hell can be much worse. Whispers that follow him all around. Fear and envy, false adoration. Murmured taunts and slurs. Disrespect. Disregard. An adult trapped in a child’s body, surrounded by fiends and morons. Jealous over his intelligence. Covetous of his power and position. Never understanding that what they have in spades, he lacks completely.

Sometimes, Toushirou thinks he should’ve just sided with Aizen. At least his enemy respected him enough to include Toushirou in his plans. He’s about the only one.

In this place where age isn’t measured in years but experience, he's an unexpected outcast. He’s fought monsters and bled and cried. Nearly died multiple times. Killed a friend. Become a captain. Reshaped an entire division. Saved the souls of others while damning his own.

But he’s never been in love. Had someone look at him with want or longing. Had lips meet his with desire on their breath.

And for all of that, Toushirou feels that he's the one lacking. That he has missed out. And he would trade all of what he is to get that back. To even have it in the first place.

There's an entire world before him, and he can’t reach the most precious part.


	10. Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitsugaya Toushirou had a problem. And his problem had a name. Gin. Ichimaru Gin. Man. Captain. Potential stalker. (#26: If Only I Could Make You Mine.)

Hitsugaya Toushirou had a problem. And his problem had a name. Gin. Ichimaru Gin. Man. Captain. Potential stalker.

Everywhere Toushirou went, the man was there. The bookstore, the place where he bought all of his ink and brushes, his favorite restaurant. His most frequented haunts. The library. The bakery with the watermelon filled rolls. The tea stand by the sixth division. The fountain he ate his lunch by on warm days.

Meetings he could forgive. They both had to show for those or face the wrath of the captain-commander. He could even understand the various other places officers of high rank frequented. And to be fair, Seireitei wasn’t really that large when all things were considered. Nowhere near the size of Rukongai. And it was inevitable that he would see familiar faces multiple times per week. Sometimes multiple times per day.

But this was truly getting out of hand!

And it wasn’t so much the places as the timing. Toushirou would leave his office and go somewhere. Only to find Ichimaru already there. In the morning, he’d pass the man in the streets on the way to work without fail, and they didn’t even live near each other. It was like Ichimaru was always hovering in the shadows. Always turning to look at him with those slitted eyes. Face completely unreadable even with that damn smile. Hands tugging and skittering nervously across his obi like he knew he’d been caught.

It wasn’t that the attention wasn’t flattering. Truthfully and in the very back of his mind, Toushirou admitted – if only to himself – that it was rather nice. Wonderful to have someone show so much of an interest in him without seemingly wanting something in return. To have someone look and only see him. For Toushirou to go out and expect to see that silvery hair blowing in the wind. To feel his face heat and stomach do this fluttery thing inside of him.

He just didn’t want Ichimaru there all the time. No, he didn’t. Not at all. Not really. Okay, maybe. It was the principle of the thing dammit! He was a captain. Not some unobservant boy without a clue. And Ichimaru wasn’t some girl with a crush following around her hero. He didn’t need to be such a stalker to get his point across.

Not that he had a point or anything.

But now… now, he was in the one place that he simply couldn’t avoid Ichimaru. He dare not defy Yamamoto-soutaichou no matter how strange the whole thing was. Ichimaru might be weird, but the old geezer was downright terrifying. So Toushirou just stood there, fighting the urge to twitch and doing everything in his power to stare straight forward.

Only that wasn’t working so well. His eyes inevitably drifted to the side, ghosting over Zaraki. Floating by Tousen and Komamura. Gliding passed Aizen, who noticed the attention and smiled, before inevitably landing on the bane of Hitsugaya Toushirou’s existence. And as though it were planned, Ichimaru’s gaze flickered to him.

Toushirou felt one eye twitch. It was his left, though his right seemed on the brink. Still, he supposed it was better than a blush. But in all honesty, he was pretty damn close to that, too.

Stupid hormones. Stupid slowly aging body. Stupid high-level reiatsu. Stupid crush. Stupid Unohana undoubtedly looking at them both with knowing eyes like she always did.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Arg!

The urge to bang his head on the nearest wall became something of a problem then. And it was all he could do not to turn around a stalk out of the room then and there. Fear of the captain-commander was a powerful thing indeed, Toushirou supposed. Or maybe he was too uncertain that if he moved it might not be to commit homicide. To grab Ichimaru by the face and demand to know what the hell he was staring at.

But thankfully, that option was taken out of his hands as the meeting ended around him, and people started to file out. Toushirou was still riveted to his spot as Unohana went by, eyes twinkling like mad and lips curling up as she did. No one but Aizen really seemed to notice, however. Or maybe they just didn’t care, all of them going through the door without a word. Until only one other person remained.

The devil himself.

He was silent though. Hands tucked into his sleeves and eyes averted. And Ichimaru was on the verge of walking by, but he hesitated just as they drew close, heartbeats stretching on to a full minute as he lingered. Gaze flicking to the only other person in the room.

Toushirou didn’t like it one bit. “Got something to say,” the boy-captain attempted to demand, but it sounded weak even to him.

Ichimaru just stared at him with those slitted-eyes for a very long second. So long that Hitsugaya thought he wouldn’t say anything. Which was probably why the question caught him so completely off guard.

“Why do ya keep followin’ me ‘round?”

What? Following _him_ around! Of all the nerve--

“Yeah,” Ichimaru continued at the skeptical look obviously painted across his face. “Ya keep showin’ up everywhere I go.”

“ _Me!_ ”

“That’s what I said. I keep seein’ ya everywhere! And I mean, everywhere! The library. My favorite bookstore. And that bakery with the really good pastries…”

Toushirou felt his face heat up, but from anger or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. “I am _not_ following you around!” His hands fisted at his sides.

“Yeah, ya do,” Ichimaru insisted. “Yer always there! Every time! And ya always look at me funny.”

“I do not look at you funny,” Toushirou all but shouted back as he unconsciously stood on the tip of his toes to get closer to eye-level. “You’re the one who’s doing this. You! Not me. It’s all you! You’re the one following me.”

Which wasn’t strictly true since Ichimaru was usually there first. But Toushirou didn’t let that little fact bother him.

“I pass you in the streets all the time. You’re there on my way to the division and when I go home. Whenever I go out. At the tea stand. Where I eat lunch. Everywhere. All the time.”

One finger unclenched long enough to jab Ichimaru in the chest, and when had they become close enough to touch?

“It’s definitely not me!”

But his vehement denial had the opposite effect intended.

Ichimaru merely watched him, grin widening to proportions never before seen. “Sure.” Only the man drew the word out like it held some kind of cosmic meaning. “Whatever ya say, taichou-san.” He titled his head down, height effectively allowing him to loom.

And in that instant, Toushirou suddenly became very much aware of just how close they were standing. Practically on top of each. Definitely invading the realm of personal space. The edges of their haori kissed, and he could even feel the heat coming from Ichimaru’s body like a furnace. Smell the lingering scent of his soap.

Toushirou jumped away so quickly that only Ichimaru’s quick and steadying hand allowed him to keep his socked feet on the slick floor.

“Let go of me,” he bit out once he was settled again, but he didn’t dare glance up. Certain that the fiery warmth to his face wasn’t anger.

“Whatever ya want, Hitsugaya-taichou.” And those slender fingers very softly pulled back.

They were both silent for a moment. Ichimaru smug. And Toushirou embarrassed beyond belief. But finally, the older captain took mercy on him.

“I’ll see ya ‘round,” he announced in a cheerful voice, and Toushirou watched the man head for the door under his eyelashes, saw him turn just before he walked out completely. He just stood there for a moment, smile now a smirk.

Then, Ichimaru blew him a kiss. Toushirou jumped as though struck.


	11. The End of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve practically been caught red-handed. The only way to be more obvious about what they’ve been doing is to put up a billboard above the shop. (#2: News/Letter.)

She comes, just as Ukitake said she would. White haori and a serene smile on her face, eyes completely unreadable. Her hands are clasped around a black bag, very reminiscent of the kind mortal doctors carry, but the power sparking over her skin shows that she's a healer of a different variety. The vague tightness of her forehead belies the easy pace of her walk as she transitions into the living world, but it's the clenching of her fingers that truly gives her away.

Unohana Retsu is very much a woman on a mission.

However, she pauses once inside the shouten, ever polite to her host as she waits from him to do as he will. But Urahara-san isn’t there, leaving only Toushirou himself and a very bored looking Yoruichi-san. It's an act but a convincing one. And if one didn’t know about their other houseguest, it might even work.

Maybe.

“You look rather whole and hearty given the situation,” Unohana begins as she seats herself across from him, words kind but with an undertone. “Not at all the condition I expected to find you in, Hitsugaya-taichou.”

He fights to not to cringe at the title. “I’m not sure what all Ukitake told you…” But Toushirou hesitates, not entire sure how to finish that thought.

“Unsurprisingly very little.” And her lips twitch at that. “He has a gift at being rather vague with health problems.” Her head tilts then, as though she's silently laughing at some inside joke. “But nevertheless, you're in rather pristine condition given that you’ve been… _indisposed_ for so long. You have been missing for nearly two months, Hitsugaya-taichou.”

Toushirou can’t completely control the flinch this time.

But she continues on like she hasn’t seen a thing. “Yes, two months, but I have the distinct suspicion that you were captive for perhaps half that. Maybe even less. I've no doubt that someone came to your rescue.”

Her words are full of implications, and he can feel his mouth fighting to drop open. There's no way that she could possibly know. Not unless she was there or had been told, and as loud and irritating as Kurosaki and his friends are, they know when to keep their mouths shut. Besides, no one from the shouten would've told her. Which leaves exactly zero ways for her to have learned this outside of a crystal ball or voodoo.

And Toushirou’s mind is still in the process of trying to come up with an answer to her unvoiced question when she speaks again.

“I only wonder where your savior is,” Unohana goes on. “And why neither one of you has come forward before this. Why you didn't contact Soul Society on your own. Unless…”

Her eyes have a very knowing gleam, flickering to the door to the hallway. And her near-grin only grows as she turns to face it.

“Come out, my dear Ichimaru Gin-san. I know that you're there.” 

Her voice is clear, resounding. Easily carrying through the closed doorway and down the hall to the shielded room he’s hiding in.

Toushirou’s stomach settles somewhere near his ankles, and his heart does this little leap inside of him. His chest tingles, as though his reiatsu is reacting to some invisible force. And somewhere in his head, his brain misfires and blanks out. Like when Gin looks at him and sees nothing else. Only not nearly as pleasant.

How the hell does she know?

Toushirou glances at Yoruichi-san then, and he’s fairly certain that the horrified look she wears is mirrored by his own features. As is the tightening of her hands. The hardening of her resolve.

Unohana is often underestimated. But never by him. She's an old, old captain. Most likely second only to the captain-commander in terms of power. Toushirou doesn’t think that Ukitake or Kyouraku could defeat her. And he knows that if it comes to a fight, he'll lose and very badly at that. He isn’t certain if even he and Yoruichi-san together can best her. Gin might be enough to tip the scale to their favor, especially with his mask. But by the time he gets there, Unohana will have already gone through the other two, but…

But she hasn’t gone for her zanpakutou. Yes, Minazuki is within reach, but she has yet to even glance that direction. And she chose to call Gin. To speak to him and not attack.

Either way, the decision is out of his hands as he suddenly feels Gin leave his shielded hiding spot and come towards them. Toushirou’s attention is fixed on the woman in front of him, but Unohana hasn’t even batted an eyelash. She simply smiles at him again. Entire countenance pleasant but not at all reassuring. He feels as if she's a well-mannered tiger, just waiting for permission to pounce.

Tension mounts as Gin moves closer, and it's all Toushirou can do not to bring forth Hyourinmaru in a preemptive strike. His palm and fingers are sweaty, inching closer to the hilt. Still, he hesitates right before grasping it, not wanting to land the first blow in such a volatile situation. Besides, she could probably knock him out in at least six different ways before he can even take a step. Yoruichi-san at least might get in a punch or three before being taken down.

That thought flitters away then as Gin's just outside the room, and their reiatsu instinctively coils together, a soft kiss of power that's both foreign and familiar racing across his skin. And that calms him as nothing else ever does. Gin isn’t agitated. Nervous, definitely. But not really concerned. Relieved more like.

And that confuses Toushirou more than anything.

They’ve practically been caught red-handed. He might as well have collaborator – or deserter or traitor – tattooed onto his forehead. The only way to be _more_ obvious about what they’ve been doing is to put up a billboard above the shop. Complete with pointed arrow to show exactly where they are.

But Gin doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried as he slides the door open and gives a sheepish nod in greeting. Unohana returns it, smile flitting away as she rises to her feet. She watches him for a moment, eyes ghosting over his face, before moving forward, and Toushirou nearly jumps in between them before her words register. Then, he just stares. Completely dumbfounded.

“My dear boy,” Unohana whispers, gazing at only him as she steps in close. “My dear sweet boy, I’m so glad that you took my advice.”

And to the surprise of everyone, she slips her arms around Gin and holds on.


	12. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’d only talked about him being a Vizard in an offhanded and abstract manner. Like it was a simple matter, a dry fact and nothing more. (#19: Red.)

“I want to see your mask.”

Ichimaru Gin blinked. Absolutely certain that he had to have misheard. His gaze flickered from the training room back to his companion, whose face was a mixture of curiosity and a little something else. But even then, his expression gave away nothing of his true thoughts. Didn’t indicate that Gin had heard correctly. Or that Toushirou had even said anything at all.

“Come again?” Gin questioned as he fingered Shinsou. His voice was easy and light. Almost teasing to cover up his uncertainty.

Toushirou quirked an eyebrow. “I want to see your mask,” he repeated as though talking to a really slow child. “Your Hollow’s mask. That thing you and that bastard Aizen went to so much trouble to obtain.”

The statement was an unusual one. If not accurate. Still, Gin couldn’t quite fathom the logic that'd brought them to his point. To go from a simple break during a spar to this. And he puzzled over that for several seconds as the breeze tugged at his hair. Why there was wind underground was also beyond him, but it was there and conveniently served as a distraction as he tried to come up with a response.

But the only thing Gin could think to say was “Why?”

“I’ve seen Kurosaki’s. Even that weirdo Hirako’s.” Toushirou paused to grimace at the name. He and the former captain of the fifth did not get along. At all.

But that was a matter for another time.

“I just want to see,” he said with a sense of finality.

Gin wasn’t going for it, however. “Still doesn’t answer my question.” He grinned then, slipping Shinsou back into her sheath. “Want one fer yerself or somethin’?”

Toushirou just gave him a look. One that clearly cast aspersions about his intellect without even speaking aloud. It was a familiar glance, though Gin readily admitted that it wasn’t usually turned his direction. Still, it made him itch to wipe away that lifted eyebrow and down curl of lips. To have Toushirou’s face take on a different cast entirely. But even as his hand reached forward, he hesitated. Stealing a deeper glimpse into the blue-green eyes staring at him. At the very determined and – dare he even think it – hopeful gleam.

“I…” Gin began, only to falter, trying his best to ignore the trickle of dread that twisted his belly.

They’d only talked about him being a Vizard in an offhanded and abstract manner. Like it was a simple matter, a dry fact and nothing more. Water was wet. The grass was green. And Ichimaru Gin was now a Vizard.

But this? This was different. This was blatant. This was showing Toushirou what exactly he’d gained from selling his soul to a would-be conqueror. For turning his back on Soul Society and the Shinigami and his division. From betraying what few friends he had. And even more than that, it was displaying what he had allowed himself to become. Baring a deep and hidden part of himself, the feral and animalistic aspect everyone had but few ever brought to the light.

Even without acknowledging it, Gin knew that last part was what made him take pause. People always found him wanting, saw him as lesser. He didn’t want Toushirou to know he was a monster, too.

And as if the boy-wonder had read his mind, Toushirou crossed his arms over his chest then. “I already know that you have one. Letting me see it won’t change anything.”

Only, it would.

“It won’t,” Toushirou insisted, doing that mindreading trick again. “I just want… I need to see.” He tilted his head, clearly wanting to look away but somehow unable to do so. “Please.”

Gin knew this was as close to begging as Toushirou would ever get. But still, it was enough to make his heart squirm in his chest and send out a flicker of warmth, and he found himself agreeing before he could even think to protest again. Toushirou’s answering nod was more than worth it though. But probably not worth the next few minutes of his life and how bad he thought they’d be.

Nevertheless, he still took a deep breath and drew his fingers over his face. Pulling down and drawing out his reiatsu in the same instant. Until he could feel it spark and settle over his skin, an outline of white around the edge of his vision. He heard Toushirou breathe in sharply.

His stomach settled near his ankles at that, and Gin forcefully didn’t glance down. Not wanting to see the horror that was certainly painted across Toushirou’s features. Instead, he just stared forward, fixed his eyes on the edge of the fake horizon.

Only to all but jump a foot in the air at the barest brush of fingers against his chin. And his gaze instantly flickered downward as he felt a hand ghost over his mask, tentative but searching. Studying the sharp angles and smooth curves. Tracing the lines of blue and red that Gin knew swept across his cheeks. Weaving over his pointed nose to the very tips of his ears before flitting to his forehead.

“Your eyes are red,” Toushirou commented, tilting Gin’s head to inspect further. “Normally, they’re blue, but they turned red as soon as you pulled it on.”

“Are they?” Gin questioned in response, voice echoing and hollow. He honestly hadn’t known that and now really wished for a mirror. The only other person to see his mask was Aizen, and his former captain had never said one way or the other.

Toushirou just nodded, too busy being fascinated. “And it doesn’t feel like bone,” he added after a minute. “I always thought they would. But it’s almost soft. Pliable. Are all of them like this?”

Gin really and truly had no idea and said as much. But Toushirou’s replying sniff was intrigued more than anything. Filled with curiosity and a hint of scheming. And Gin had the sudden image of him stopping mid-battle to feel the mask of some random Hollow. Or better yet, just grabbing Ichigo by the face the next time he donned his.

He didn’t know if he should be amused or horrified by the prospect. Instead settling on a wary sort of bemusement. Thankfully, Toushirou couldn’t see his smile. Distracted as he studied Gin’s mask again. Fingers still wandering and tracing. Pulling Gin’s head down even further as he inspected the top and very effectively putting them within inches.

His insides fluttered at the look of complete concentration, and Gin felt an inexplicable rush of heat as those hands stilled on either cheek. As Toushirou just looked at him. Only at him and not the mask at all.

And then, Toushirou very slowly rose up on his tiptoes and pressed a gentle and impossibly soft kiss to his mouth. Not at all caring that Gin couldn’t kiss him back. Or that the lips he was touching were covered by a Hollow’s mask. He still did it anyway.

“It suits you,” he murmured after a second, eyes close and glittering a near-green. “I like it.”

Gin started and opened his mouth to speak, but Toushirou was already stepping back. Reaching for Hyourinmaru. Face settling into his normal serious expression, even though his eyes gave him away.

“Come on,” he said with a nonchalant gesture, giving his companion a moment to compose himself. “I want to see what you’ve got. Show me what you can really do with that thing.” His tone was not quite taunting but still daring Gin to show him something extraordinary.

Gin, in turn, just blinked. And then chuckled, freeing Shinsou with a flick of his wrist. Flexing the fingers of his free hand and giving a burst of reiatsu to solidify his mask even more.

If Toushirou wanted a challenge, he was more than happy to oblige.


	13. Under the Flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All he hears is the rushing in his ears, the crash and rise of waves. The sound of his own breath. (#29: The Sound of Waves.)

All he hears is the rushing in his ears, the crash and rise of waves. The sound of his own breath, harsh and short as he struggles against the hands gripping him. As he attempts to surge forward but is held fast. Gin's the only thing he sees. The only thing he _can_ see.

Silvery hair caking with blood and blade dancing through the air. Mask still going strong. Darting towards Tousen. Blocking a return swing. Sidestepping. Head tilting to the left to avoid Wonderwice’s reaching fingers. Counterstrike cutting true and knocking the Arrancar back. Pivoting to dodge Tousen’s rush attack.

Then, they're a blur. Moving far too quickly for Toushirou to keep up. Streaks of white and brown swirling against blue and silver and red. Too fast. Much too fast. Enhanced speed and strength even above a captain. Even above him.

Toushirou should know, after all. In all the times he’s sparred with Gin, he’s only really won twice. And both times, he cheated like hell.

But he can’t just stand here and watch. Stand there and do nothing. It’s two against one. And really, despite his labored breath, at least three broken ribs, and the not-so-small gash to his chest, Toushirou thinks that he can still take the little one. Wonderwice doesn’t look so tough.

He struggles at the hands holding him back. Not even caring that his blood splatters against Hirako’s shirt. Or that Hirako’s own blood hits him in return, a gift from the Vasto Lorde who tried to take a chunk out of his skull. Wet and hot and intermingling until he can’t tell which drops belong to whom. Not that he cares.

Too busy staring at Gin and nothing else, not even the battle still raging on nearby. Seeing him hit Wonderwice so hard and fast that the child-like Arrancar goes down in a wash of red and doesn’t get back up. Glimpsing Tousen as he all but freezes and then lets out a furious torrent of power. Watching with his heart in his throat as Tousen unleashes his bankai. And feeling Gin’s reiatsu as it just _disappears_ in the dome of absolute black. Just vanishes like it was never there at all. A void where Gin should be. Where he’s always been.

His soul practically shatters in those gut-wrenching minutes. Not even noticing as Hirako does his best to heal them both. To keep him from bleeding out on the sodden Japanese soil, thick with unknowable substances that he’d never want to give name to or even consider at all. His lips move in a silent prayer to every deity he knows and few he most likely makes up on the spot.

Then, the dome explodes outward, and there's Gin, triumphant but stumbling. Shinsou is loose in his grip as he steps forward, feet dragging. Reiatsu low but stronger than it should be. Tendrils swirling and reaching out. Connecting. The kiss of life after an eternity of nothing but death and emptiness.

And Toushirou comes back to himself, somehow on his knees. Sucking in air like a drowning man. The sound of the ocean roars in his head, heart pounding in his chest so furiously that it doesn’t even pause between beats, a continuous thudding hum.

There's relief. A sigh and stream of it. Flowing and encircling. But quickly ebbing away as Gin staggers. Green-blue eyes can only stare as he stumbles again. And then a third time. Fumbling his way to the side of a building and just leaning against it as his strength finally leaves him.

Toushirou feels himself stiffen and then pours forward at that realization, but Hirako still won’t let him go. And Toushirou can only feel his belly twist in on itself at the recollection of where exactly they are and who exactly is around. This is the very worst time and place to be weak, to be injured. To have Shinigami fighting Arrancar and Espada less than a few blocks from here. With Gin a traitor and himself a believed fugitive. With known exiles and unmentionables helping them.

If they see, if they even catch a glimpse of Gin so vulnerable and hurt, it'll be the end of everything.

“Bastard, we have to… get to him. Before… before the Shinigami,” Toushirou pants, unable to breathe. Unable to slide from the blond’s grasp. “They’ll… kill him for sure.”

“I know,” Hirako says, just as unbelievably tired as Toushirou himself. “I know. But just wait. We can’t let them see ya either, kid.”

He doesn’t even scowl at the nickname. Lets it trickle from his back like water. All of his focus is on one thing and one thing alone. At Gin barely hanging on. At the rapidly approaching reiatsu of the Shinigami zoning in on his location. At the edge and whisper of black robes just around the corner. Barely even noticing the familiar rush of power flashing their way in a muted and almost-hidden flicker.

Toushirou blinks, and Gin is gone. Has evaporated like mist hit by sunlight. Vanished. All he sees is the afterimage still burnt onto his retinas and the streak of orange overlaid. And then, he’s moving; Hirako is moving them both, world a blur of colors. Taking them through Karakura at speeds Toushirou couldn’t even begin to accomplish on his own, and not even Soifon would be able to keep up. To keep pace with the Vizard leader as he streams through the town and to their hideout in record time.

But somehow, mere seconds after they land, a tide of orange comes to stop just to their left. And Yoruichi-san stands before them with Gin slung over her shoulder in much the same way Hirako now holds him. Face fierce but grinning. Triumphant. The cat who caught and carried away the canary. Who snatched it right from under the Shinigami’s collective noses.

Toushirou exhales a burst of air. And without thinking, he reaches forward as far as he can. Fingers grasping another set and holding on for dear life. Gin’s hair is hanging in his face, and Toushirou can’t tell if he's awake. If he's anything beyond alive.

But then, barely. Softly. The hand in his squeezes back.


	14. Say It Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toushirou is not just a little boy with a crush. He wants to say... to scream that Matsumoto is wrong, but she’s so very right. (#10: 10.)

Her voice floats to his ears. Soft and for once lacking its normal exuberance. Toushirou understands this is a sign of serious things to come. He remembers all the little looks and glances she’s given him the last few weeks, as though trying to decide something but being unsure of how to word the question. And he knows with a certainty that should scare him that what she wishes to say isn’t fit for Inoue’s ears. That this topic is hard and solemn and most likely something he won’t want to hear. But he will anyway. As idiotic as Matsumoto comes off most of the time, she's far smarter than she appears, and her words of wisdom are not to be dismissed easily or even lightly.

He hears her footfalls on the roof behind him but doesn’t even turn his head to look. Just waiting for her to approach as she comes up to stand just to his left and little away from his outstretched hand. Toushirou idly wonders where their host is, what the human girl is doing in that moment and why she didn’t follow his lieutenant up here as she normally does.

“She’s fast asleep,” Matsumoto replies to his unvoiced question as she seats herself.

Inoue certainly is by now. Undoubtedly worn out by his lieutenant just so they could have this conversation in private. Not that they’re having much of a conversation since that usually involves more than one person actually speaking.

“It’s strange,” Matsumoto continues a minute later. “I never thought I’d ever have an assignment like this. Pretending to be some high schooler in the living world. And definitely not under these circumstances.”

Isn’t that the understatement of the century? Who the hell would envision this particular scenario?

Toushirou himself certainly hadn’t, not in his wildest and most twisted nightmares. Never thought that Aizen was anything more than an outstanding captain and a good, honest man in a world full of liars and backstabbers. Never imagined that Ichimaru really was what all those people claimed, Rukongai trash that would turn on them at the earliest and most convenient opportunity. A whore who'd sell himself to the highest bidder.

At the bitter taste in his mouth, Toushirou abruptly stops thinking. Or at least, he tries. Attempts to just tilt his head back and stare at the cloudless sky, stars obscured by the lights of the city.

“I just never thought things would turn out this way,” his lieutenant continues, not privy to his inner ruminations. “I always believed that, you know, everything was fine in Seireitei. Well,” she corrects, “not fine but okay. That things would always go on as they had. That there’d be patrols and new recruits and meetings. And Hinamori would talk about how wonderful her taichou was. And we’d all roll our eyes but know that she was right. And Kira wouldn't really talk about his, but he’d still smile like he used to and try to look happy and forget that mess with the fourth division. And Hisagi would follow Tousen around and look so serious but be freaking out inside about the newsletter. And at the end of the day, I’d go hang out with the boys--”

“--and come in late to the office the next morning, sleep on my sofa, and still not do your paperwork,” Toushirou inserts with a longsuffering air, and he finally turns to look at her. “Is there a point to all of this?”

She blinks at him before shrugging and glancing away. “I just… I don’t understand where it all went wrong. I don’t understand what the hell Aizen was thinking. What he’s been thinking all these years. I don’t know if any of it was ever real. If it was all a lie, some mask he wore so he could get us to trust him. Or if that was him but he just got so fed up with it all that he couldn’t take it anymore. If he just snapped and stopped caring.”

Toushirou feels his hands clenching into fists at his side, and it takes all of his self-control to uncurl them. But Matsumoto keeps going like she doesn’t notice.

“And Gin… gods! I never know what the fuck he’s thinking. Why he'd even do this.” One of her feet stomps against the rooftop. “Or maybe I do. Maybe I can understand why he'd turn his back on the Shinigami. It’s not like they’ve ever really been good or even nice to him. To any of us from Rukongai. Especially the higher districts.” He can see her biting her lip in the dim light, hard enough to nearly draw blood. “But I don’t get why he'd do this to his friends. To Unohana and Kira. To me. Why he'd do this to _you_.”

Toushirou forgets to breathe. 

“Wh--What?” he asks and is both alarmed and ashamed by the high pitch to his voice. “What do you mean by that?”

He tries for his strictest and most draconic tone, but it sounds hollow to his own ears, weak and trembling. And his heart beats painfully in his chest.

“I think you know what I mean, taichou,” Matsumoto says in return, eyes shrewd but sad as they flicker to him.

“I don’t have a damn clue,” he all but growls out.

She just looks at him in much the same way he normally looks at her. Like he’s an idiot who isn’t fooling anyone and should just cut it out now. And damn, when did she learn to do that so fucking well?

“Ignorance doesn’t suit you at all, you know,” she comments in such a way to make him feel like a particularly retarded goldfish, slow and too stupid to know not to swim into the glass. “You know exactly what I mean. You’re not a kid for all that ya look like one. And you have the same needs and desires as the rest of us, despite how you try to pretend you don’t,” Matsumoto adds, pausing for a second before going in for the kill. “You and Gin--”

“--were fellow captains. That was all. We weren’t even friends. And sure as hell not what you’re implying.” Toushirou knows that he should be angry, furious about her accusations. But he only comes off defensive. As if he knows he won’t even be able to pull of righteous indignation.

“I don’t believe that for single second,” Matsumoto states with such vehemence that he's momentarily taken aback. She’s never spoken to him like this before. Like she’s the captain and not him. “I know that something is – _was_ – going on between the two of you.”

He runs his hand over his head just to keep it from becoming a fist. “Nothing's going on, Matsumoto. Nothing ever _went_ on.” He exhales and grips his hair in frustration. “We never… I didn’t… It never happened. You’re imagining things; there was never anything. End of story.”

“But you wanted there to be, and there was,” she counters fiercely, and shadows kiss her face as she moves to look at him fully, her eyes the only thing clear. “You wanted something to come of it. To be there with you. You wanted something to happen between the two of you.”

“I don’t think--”

“Don’t deny in it,” she interrupts. “I’m not blind. I’ve always been able to read him. And I can also read you pretty well, taichou.” Matsumoto makes a motion with her hand. She's breathing hard now. Fast and almost erratic. Like she’s run a marathon or has been dying to get this off her chest for months. Maybe even years.

“You looked at him like you’ve never looked at me. Or at Hinamori. Or at any girl. At anyone. You looked at him like he was the only thing you saw. Like you could’ve been bleeding at his feet, but it would’ve been okay if he just smiled at you.” Her words are more accurate than she knows and all that much more painful for it, but his lieutenant doesn’t let up. “And don’t even get me started on that fight you two had just before the end. For as pissed off and powerful as you are, you sure didn’t do much damage to him, and you probably could’ve taken his head off if you really wanted to. But you didn’t.”

Toushirou just stares at her for few heartbeats. Knowing that all his careful ploys and feints and attempts not to look like he was so damned interested or that he was even watching at all have failed spectacularly. Knowing that there's no point in lying now.

“Yes, alright? Happy now!” He practically snarls, “Yes, I looked at him. Yes, I wanted there to be something. But there wasn’t. And it doesn’t matter now,” Toushirou shoots back without thinking. He can feel the roof ice under him, and he snaps his mouth shut and pulls in his reiatsu as tightly as he can. He probably just alerted half the damn city that he's upset as it is.

“It does. It does matter.” Her tone has gone soft again, almost brittle in its mildness, and she dares to scoot closer, not even caring that the roof is icy and she’s in a skirt. “It matters because you still feel. He hurt you. Maybe even more than he hurt me. Gin and me, we’ve been through a lot, but we were already drifting before this happened. And I’m ashamed to say that most of that was my fault. His, too. But not nearly as much.”

She looks like she wants to reach out to touch him but is afraid what he’ll do. Matsumoto shakes her head. She’s quiet for a moment, and the wind is the only sound between them until she speaks again.

“But you, taichou, I saw the way you watched him. The way he watched you back. I don’t think anyone else but Unohana ever noticed. Probably Aizen. Maybe Kira. But it’s hard to know what goes on in that boy’s head.” Her fingers very lightly brush his sleeve. “He looked at you the way you looked at him. And it’s okay if that upsets you. It’s okay to admit that you miss him. Even if it’s only a little. Even if you’re more furious with him than sad that he’s gone. You aren’t just a little boy with a crush. Gin is more than that to you.”

There's something swelling in his chest, and it grows more and more with each word, each reassurance of everything he’s been trying to deny. Toushirou doesn’t know what to do with it, feeling a spark of absolute madness settle in his mind. Wild urges flickering and solidifying with each passing syllable. He wants to say – _to scream_ – that Matsumoto's wrong, but she’s so very right. And he wants to… needs to… has to say something. And she’s here. Right there. And the words come before he can stop them, that inexplicable something tumbling from his lips with all the grace of a Hollow attack or the eleventh division during one.

“I… He does my paperwork. Do you know that?” Toushirou blurts out suddenly but hurries on before she can respond. “He sneaks into the office one night a week and does everything so that I can have the next day off. Took me years to figure out it was him. At first, I didn’t care who it was, but then, I became curious and spent the night in the division just to find out. I caught him just as he was leaving. That was… That was only a few months before they left. Just this last spring.”

His belly flutters at the memory. At leaning in the doorway and seeing Ichimaru with his head bowed over paperwork, long fingers grasping his brush and writing in a steady stream. Working away without once glancing up until Toushirou gave just a little flare of his reiatsu, a tiny flicker to let the man know that he’d been caught. But Ichimaru had only grinned when he looked up. Like he’d known Toushirou was watching him the whole damn time and didn’t care. Or maybe he’d just liked the attention.

But he shakes that away just as quickly as it comes. Not wanting to recall what happened afterwards. The way Ichimaru brushed by him, fingers ghosting over the back of Toushirou’s hand or the way that his skin felt like it was on fire for hours after that. How he could close his eyes and just remember the way the man smelled and the sound of his voice as he called out his goodbye.

It just hurts too much to think about that. The stab in his chest worse than when Aizen wiped the floor with him without even trying and nearly as embarrassing.

“He… He likes the same books I do,” Toushirou goes on without looking at her or even really realizing the words that slip free. “I always see him in the library around the same shelves. And he frequents the same pastry shop. Kami, the damn owner knows us both on sight and always has our orders ready. Sometimes, she even puts extra – some of his – in my bag, hoping I’ll give them to him. And the tailor makes the linings of our haori the same color. I think that he asks her to do it. And… And… I…” He rolls his eyes at his own idiocy. “It’s stupid. So fucking stupid. You shouldn’t have to hear this. You _don’t_ have to listen.”

Matsumoto's quiet for a time. Seconds. Minutes. Maybe even hours. Just studying his profile. He can feel her gaze ghost over his face as certainly as he can feel the lingering chill and bite to the air.

“No, I want to hear it,” she says at last. Honestly curious and inviting. “Tell me more.”

He bites his lip. Staring out at the town. Fighting not to look at her. Not to take a deep and shuddering breath. To keep his eyes open and not letting moisture collect. To hold in the agony he knows he won’t be able to contain otherwise.

“Tell me more,” she prompts again.

And he does.


	15. Shock Value

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was more like he’d stolen their trust, set it on fire, stomped up and down on the ashes before spitting on them and flinging them free in the wind. (#5: "Ano sa"; " _Hey, you know..._ ")

Gin had a very bad feeling about this. Supremely bad. Horrible. Like that time Rangiku had said it would be a good idea to snatch Kuchiki-hime's favorite stamp and inkstand and paint doodles all over his office walls. Alcohol quite possibly could've been involved, but that fact hadn't deterred the noble in the slightest or made his vengeance any less painful. Gin still winced every time he saw yakitori.

But that feeling of imminent doom only paled in comparison to the one stirring in the pit of his belly. It twisted at his insides and tied them in a knot. It sent little icy tendrils down his spine, sharp spikes that jabbed him with each step. It made his feet heavy as he walked, nearly dragging behind Toushirou and Kuro-chan – it's Ichigo, dammit! Only his pride and the realization that Toushirou would carry him bodily if need be kept him going.

Shinsou rattled in her sheath with each step. Just as uneasy as her wielder. Just as edgy. Gin could only imagine what his inner world must look like at the moment. Clouded over and hostile no doubt. Frozen and chilly in a manner that had absolutely nothing to do with Toushirou's reiatsu and everything with the flicker of not-quite fear that churned inside.

Not-quite fear because Gin wasn't afraid. Wasn't _just_ afraid. He was petrified.

After all, it wasn't every day that he went begging for help. Even more from people he had wronged. Though truthfully, wronged was putting it a bit lightly. Backstabbed fit better. So did betrayed. It was more like he'd stolen their trust, set it on fire, stomped up and down on the ashes before spitting on them and flinging them free in the wind.

Wronged didn't come close to what Aizen… to _Gin_ had done to these people. He wouldn't be surprised if they killed him on sight. He probably deserved to be killed on sight. Deserved everything they could and should dish out at him. A little torture. Some bloodshed. Maybe then they'd call it even, but Gin doubted it.

He only hoped that they didn't take out their anger on Toushirou. Kuro-chan… Ichigo should be just fine. They knew him already, and he'd undoubtedly worked his magic on them. But Toushirou? There was no telling how the Vizard would react to him, to a true outsider. Someone who had recently served the organization they now hated. Someone who wasn't a Shinigami with Hollow powers. Someone with a very strong tie to Gin.

He was still contemplating that as they approached the warehouse. And the sinking sensation of complete doom came back in full force as they crossed the threshold and went inside. It was all Gin could do not to keep his hands at his side and not wrap them around Shinsou. Going in armed was one thing. Having his sword drawn was quite another. It was practically an invitation to be attacked. Not that they needed one.

However, the building was strangely quiet around them as trio came to the middle of the large central room. And it was seemingly empty save for the random crates and machinery left out. There was no one else in sight. Just the three of them. Ichigo in the lead with the two former captains bringing up the rear. Gin nearly started when Ichigo's voice unexpectedly filled the silence.

"I don't see anybody, but the geta-boushi promised they'd be here."

He glanced around, and Gin could tell that the boy was trying his best to search them out with his senses. But even Gin himself couldn't, and he was the best of their group at that. Which meant that Urahara-san had either lied. Or the Vizard were hiding. Probably waiting until for the chance to strike. For Ichigo and Toushirou to move away so they wouldn't be caught in the crossfire.

But at least, they were being thoughtful about it. No need for civilian causalities, after all. No need to punish anyone but the guilty and wretched.

"I'm gonna go look around," Ichigo announced then. "They might be in underground part. Wait here. Not sure how they'll react to you yet."

' _Badly_ ' was what Gin thought, but Toushirou answered before he could form words.

"We'll be waiting then." He crossed his arms over his chest, brushing against Gin when he moved. "Just be quick about it."

Ichigo gave a dismissive wave over his shoulder as he walked into the shadows and disappeared from view. Gin could still taste his reiatsu, but that too vanished within a minute. Probably because he'd just entered a shielded area.

And it seemed that Gin barely had time to take a single breath before there was the hint of reiatsu somewhere in the darkness. A flicker of very – _painfully_ – familiar reiatsu. And then, a voice from just behind his shoulder.

"Well, who do we have here?" the newcomer asked, tone tight and teasing with a hard edge.

Gin felt Toushirou stiffen next to him, and Gin probably would've done the same had he not been trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. Which was going so fast and hard that he was surprised the whole building couldn't hear it.

"Ah… Isn't that just unexpected? The prodigal son returns." The steps were echoingly loud behind them, but their new companion came to a stop before either could even see him. "Long time no see, Gin-chan."

And slowly, agonizingly, Ichimaru Gin turned to face his fate. Catching a glimpse of blond hair, much shorter than he remembered. A wide smile with very big teeth – the better to eat him with, my dear! And narrowed eyes that skewered him on the spot.

Hirako Shinji.

His former captain. Someone he probably could've called friend and actually admired had things gone differently. Much differently. Like if Aizen had never been spawned.

Hirako-taichou snickered then. Like he'd either heard Gin's inner thoughts or guessed them.

"What? Not gonna even say hi ta your former captain." He sniffed and stepped forward into the light. "Geez. Sousuke certainly didn't teach ya any manners, did he?"

There was something like a gasp from next to Gin. The sound of Toushirou sucking in a very deep breath. The air crackled around them with a sudden and distinct chill, and Gin could see his eye twitch.

"You!" Toushirou all but growled from beside him, pointing a finger. "I knew there was something up with you. No way you were just a fucking student." It was filled with both accusation and satisfaction, as though he couldn't decide which he should be.

Gin blinked at that. At the recognition. At the fact that they'd clearly met before. Somewhere. Somehow. All without him realizing.

"Surprised that we know each other?" Hirako-taichou questioned his obvious surprise with a wicked grin. "Toushirou and me went ta high school together. Didn't cha know?"

No, actually. Gin hadn't known that. But then, judging by Toushirou's shocked expression, he'd had no idea who Hirako-taichou really was. It seemed like Ichigo had neglected to mention that part. Or he hadn't put it all together yet.

And speaking of Ichigo, just where the hell was he?

"But Gin-chan an' me… we go way back, don't we?" Hirako-taichou continued in a pleasant tone, somehow managing to sound so damn sincere that even Gin was half-convinced. "Back nearly ta the beginnin' of all this mess."

He could only watch as Toushirou lost his bluster, hand falling to his side. The boy's eyes went from Hirako-taichou to himself and back. Searching for something and not finding it.

"Gin?" Toushirou's voice was unnaturally soft and questioning.

He winced at that tone. It probably would've been good to give a little forewarning. But it was a difficult thing to admit that he was exactly what everyone had always claimed. A true bastard in every since of the word.

"Ya mean he didn't tell ya?" It wasn't quite mocking, but that was still conveyed. "Gin-chan here used ta be my third-seat. Back then, he wasn't much taller than ya. Always followin' Sousuke 'round like a lost puppy. So very eager ta please. Eager ta do anything he asked of ya."

Something a lot like shame roiled in his stomach. Hot and bitter and all too much like humiliation. Sharp memories of the taunts that had followed him through the academy and into his new division. To a bastard of a man with wandering hands who'd been his immediate superior. That instead of turning Gin in for killing his tormentor, Aizen had been all too happy to bring him into the fold. That he'd been the first person in Seireitei to seem genuinely pleased with him. To encourage his talents and interests. To see Gin as something other than Rukongai trash, as more than a whore with a new master.

"Third-seat?" Toushirou repeated, gaze fixed on Gin.

And there was something in his eyes, something painful and aching. He didn't want to believe Hirako-taichou and was searching for reassurance.

Something that Gin couldn't give.

"Yep," Hirako-taichou inserted, hands going behind his head in the perfect picture of nonchalance. "I was his captain, ya know. His and Sousuke's both. Before they stabbed me in the back that is. Almost literally. They're the entire reason we were exiled. The reason we've Hollows in the first place."

Gin swallowed hard. He wanted to form a denial, to reassure the boy beside him, but he couldn't. It was nothing but the truth. Cold and brutal. Hard like the look Toushirou was giving him, almost begging to hear him say differently. But Gin could only glance away, unable to meet those eyes as he tilted his head down and slowly lowered himself to the floor. Going past seiza and coming all too close to resting his forehead on the concrete.

He didn't need to glance up to picture Toushirou's face. To know that his mouth was undoubtedly hanging open with his eyebrows drawn low and tight. Gin could only imagine how smug Hirako-taichou must look, how he had to be savoring this moment. Only having Aizen here, doing the same, could've possibly made it sweeter.

But the ensuing sound, a clucking noise, most definitely was not from either of them. Nor was the sudden press of reiatsu. The feel of several very powerful people coming into the room. Ichigo was among them but was hovering towards the back, undoubtedly being kept out of the way.

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in," another voice inserted. This one was decidedly female and most certainly not friendly. In fact, hostility dripped from each word.

Gin didn't dare look up from the floor. Afraid what he might find. Terrified to even see the horror on Toushirou's face.

"I'd rather think this one's the cat, Hiyori," someone else corrected, a man with a fluid tenor. "Definitely a stray either way."

"And he should be dealt with like one," the girl called Hiyori responded. "Thrown out with the trash!"

A sandaled-foot came into view then, and Gin had a second to wonder where the other one was before it nearly intersected his stomach. Stopped only by another leg and a quick sweep of her to the side.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Gin would know that voice anywhere. Toushirou's sock-clad foot at the edge of his vision only confirmed it. As did the frost forming on the concrete below him. Brittle but crackling beneath his weight.

"Back off, pipsqueak!" the girl was quick to retort. "This backstabbing jackass is about to get what's coming to him."

But before she could even shove Toushirou out of the way, Hirako-taichou was already there to intercept. Striding in between them and effectively separating the two.

"Now, now, children. None of that," the man swiftly cut in, and Gin can see him forcing her further back and pulling Toushirou up beside him. "She's just excitable. No need ta worry. Besides, I can't have her kickin' my third-seat."

"Your third-seat!" Hiyori-san demanded just out of sight. "He hasn't been that in a hundred years. He's Aizen's fucking right-hand. His dog! His bitch!"

"And name-calling, too, Hiyori?" Hirako-taichou inquired from beyond Gin's left shoulder. "But he's not Aizen's anymore. Is he, Toushirou?" He didn't even wait for an answer before continuing. "If I had to guess, I'd say he hasn't been Aizen's for a long time. That he belongs ta someone else entirely. And for a much better reason."

There was silence at that. No dared speak. Not even Toushirou or Ichigo. And least of all Gin. Not until Hirako-taichou addressed him again.

"Besides," the man said in a peculiar tone, sounding much nearer than before, "he's learned his lesson. Haven't cha?"

Gin didn't glance up from the floor and only bowed his head more. "Hai, Hirako-taichou."

He heard Hirako-taichou let out a gust of air and move closer. Gin lowered himself further, if that were at all possible.

"I ain't yer boss anymore, kid." And suddenly, there was a hand tilting his chin up. "Ya don't have ta beg. We're not monsters. At least, not in that way. But ya'd know all about that, wouldn't ya?"

Gin bit his lip. Doing his best to see without gazing into Hirako-san's eyes.

"Hmphf." Hirako-san lifted his chin higher and forced Gin to look at him. "Now, say yer sorry. And I want ya ta really mean it."

"I…" Gin squared his shoulders, eyes fixed on Hirako-san. "I'm very sorry. Sorry 'bout everythin'."

Unerringly, his gaze drifted to Toushirou. Who was watching with an unreadable expression, face a blank mask and eyes very dark and clouded.

"I apologize," he repeated softly. "I won't ever do it 'gain."

There was a pause. A distinct sort of quiet as the last of his echoing words died.

Then, Hirako-san clucked his tongue. "Good enough for ya, guys?" he questioned the group at large

And there was a chorus of agreement. Not enthusiastic. But still there. Cautious but somehow forgiving. Until Hiyori-san added in her two cents.

" _No!_ " she shouted out her dissent. "It sure as hell isn't, you bast-" But she was abruptly silenced with a hard knock to the head, courtesy of a girl in glasses.

Hirako-san smirked at that and gave Gin a wink before releasing him and stepping back. Gin could only numbly sink back on the floor, still kneeling. But then, there was a hand in front of his face, small but not entirely dainty. Beckoning him to grasp it. And Gin just stared dumbly for a moment before looking up to see Toushirou staring down at him. Just gazing at him and nothing else, waiting, watching.

The fingers in front of his face wiggled again, and Gin reached forward on automatic, grasping and just holding on. Toushirou's hand tightened, and he pulled Gin to his feet like he weighed nothing. They were standing next to each other then, but Toushirou didn't say anything as he slid his fingers through Gin's and squeezed. Just once.

That was all Gin needed to remember how to breathe.

And Toushirou didn't even pull away afterward. Still continuing to hold on as they walked towards the group. Hirako-san was still smirking when he sidled up beside them and slung an arm around his shoulder with enough force to almost rip him free from Toushirou's grasp. However, he did little more than ruffle Gin's hair.

"Well, now that we've all kissed and made up, the real fun can begin."

He chuckled then, and it was a wicked and dangerous thing. The laughs from the other Vizard only made it that much worse.

Gin might've just preferred when they still hated him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Yes, I did make Shinsou a girl. Gin just strikes me as the type to have a female zanpakutou.


	16. Carol of the Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their reiatsu goes from discordant, from two individual melodies to an echoing harmony. (#17: kHz/kilohertz)

Gin hears the carol of whispers everywhere. Chorusing at his favorite tea stand. On the way to his division in the morning. In the library perusing the shelves. Reclining in his office with the windows open.

“The youngest ever!”

“Wasn’t even a lieutenant first.”

“Ice zanpakutou. The strongest one around.”

“Beat even that creep Ichimaru’s records.”

“Some type of dragon, I think.”

“He’s so small. Barely even comes up to my chin.”

All rumors about the boy-wonder himself. Short of height and rumored just as short of temper. But frosty and cool under pressure. White hair matching his icy sword.

Hitsugaya Toushirou.

Child. Genius. And now captain.

A conundrum wrapped in a puzzle with mystery as its shadow and enigma lurking just behind. The unknown star of a new opera with a foreign conductor and even stranger instruments.

Gin’s seen the kid around. Seen him interact with sweet Momo-chan. Overheard them talk. Learned far more about him and the shallowness of their relationship in that moment than he ever needed to know.

But they’ve never actually spoken. Gin doesn’t think he’s given Hitsugaya as much as a hello in passing. Not up to his usual friendly albeit annoying fashion, he admits. But he’s been busy; the concert of his life is standing room only. Directing his division eats up the majority of his time and conspiring against Soul Society takes most of what’s left. And really, he has to sleep sometime.

So it comes as no surprise that the first time he sees Hitsugaya once he’s passed his proficiency test is at the little get-together that is traditionally held the night afterwards. A nocturne of power plays and political allies. Which thankfully and quickly loses its audience after the old man lets out a blazing bolero of reiatsu.

Then, it’s just the thirteen of them. Opposing and seemingly discordant strings that somehow weave together to form the symphony of the Gotei 13. The original dozen adding a new dimension and dynamic to their ranks.

Hitsugaya is seemingly unperturbed as he’s thrown face first into the spotlight. Gaze drifting from one of his new coworkers to the next like a performer who doesn’t even need to glance at the sheet music before playing. But he follows Retsu-chan’s lead with good grace and allows her to direct him as she will.

New captains are assigned to older ones. Sort of a cross between mentor, keeper, and guide. Supposedly there to smooth the transition and to insure that they understand the intricacies of the position. But really, even Tousen could see through that lie. It’s more to make sure they aren’t batshit than anything else. A glorified babysitter meant to keep the newbie on a firm leash until they’re sure he – or she, occasionally – won’t start killing subordinates. Not that it’s ever really stopped anybody.

Apparently, Retsu-chan is his. Following along beside the boy with her normal dainty gracefulness. Ensuring that he meets all of his new coworkers and that they make nice. What a scintillating job that has to be.

And Gin wonders at that. Why Aizen-taichou would let such an opportunity slip through his grasp, especially since the kid started out in his division. But then, Aizen had been assigned to Zaraki, who was a cakewalk compared to when Kyouraku was with Kurotsuchi or Ukitake with the emotionally volatile Soifon. Or so Gin has heard. Either way, the old fart probably feels that it’s somebody else’s turn and Retsu-chan’s number was up. Lucky her.

Gin watches as they pass from one captain to the next with Retsu keeping them on tempo like a conductor. Swift and sharp staccato to and from Kurotsuchi, Soifon, and Zaraki. Sweeping by Tousen with a pausing nod to the captain-commander, who heard the solo earlier. Slowing to a moderate pace at Komamura and then Kyouraku but evening out as Ukitake goes to join him. A swift upsurge to Kuchiki-hime, who has been attempting to exit the stage for a half-hour already, but again easing as they come to Aizen-taichou. Lingering just within earshot as Gin quietly sips his drink and enjoys the performance from his balcony. The back and forth of the leads with the choir a din in the background.

And finally, the duet heads his way.

Retsu-chan as always is the breath of air before the first note. The birdsong carrying on the morning breeze, soprano and airy. Light but with the undertone of water flowing across rock. A steady thrum that is both ageless and timeless.

The boy is ice crystals tinkling just before the glacier sheers apart. The deep rumble of earth and thunder resounding across the sky. Drums beating in the deep with chimes reverberating in the gale-force wind. The brass horn that rises above it all, commanding attention and obedience so naturally.

They step out of the side doors and onto the wide porch where Gin has been watching the recital from a shadowy corner.

“Ah… there you are,” Retsu-chan chimes warmly before gliding up to Gin. “I had hoped to see you earlier. I’m sure you’ve heard about the latest edition to our ranks,” she tells him and then turns back to the boy. “Hitsugaya-taichou, this is the last but not least of our colleagues.”

Gin takes his cue.

“Ichimaru Gin.” He gives a bow that is neither shallow nor deep but nicely in between. “Pleasure ta meet ya.”

His best and largest grin is stretched out on his face, nearly pulling his eyes completely shut. But he can still see enough to know that blue-green gaze is sizing him up. Assessing his height but almost painfully thin build. His clearly slitted eyes and metallic hair. The breadth and depth of his reiatsu and how it hums in pleasant harmony with Retsu-chan’s without even trying.

He notices a white eyebrow lift then. A clear show of surprise. Obviously, the boy didn’t expect him to be able to do that, much less so effortlessly. The vague hint of camaraderie and trust in this woman. A subtle sonata of power and understanding. Especially since they’ve never served in the same division and had battle bind them together.

While the boy is considering that puzzle, Gin takes the opportunity to study him in return. To assess his reiatsu in greater detail and feel the rhythmic pulse of it in the air. A new strain that has joined the songs of the various captains still occupying the room. Not insisting on the first chair but refusing to be second fiddle.

Curiouser and curiouser chants the fox to the dragon.

“Hitsugaya Toushirou,” the boy murmurs then. “Likewise.”

The rise and fall of his voice is octaves lower than his size would indicate. More tenor than alto. But Gin has to wonder how genuine that soft and musical rumble is. If it is a reflection of the dragon inside or the boy’s attempt to make himself seem older. If the near palpable ice kissing his skin is reality or a barricade between himself and the world. A serenade of frost and chilly resolve that has yet to fill with disdain like so many of the others.

And the trap is sprung. A sharp note of the string as it snaps.

Gin can admit that he was interested before. When he saw the boy with Hinamori Momo on that wintry day. But now, after listening to all the interplay, he’s downright intrigued.

He steps closer and inclines his head to the side. Entire demeanor shifting from something of polite distance to one of genuine gladness. Hitsugaya recognizes the move. His own change in position from curiosity to true equal. His eyes narrow even as he slowly responds in kind, and their reiatsu goes from discordant, from two individual melodies to an echoing harmony. The guitar and trumpet that choose to resonate, to play in sync instead of against each other.

And behind them, Retsu smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after part 3, _Solitary Serenade_.


	17. The Beautiful Letdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their reunion leaves a little something to be desired. But really, is a little gladness too much to ask for? (#27: Overflow.)

Their reunion leaves a little something to be desired. That isn't to say he's unhappy to see them or that the fact that the first thing they do in no way involves their swords shouldn't be a good sign. But really, is a little gladness too much to ask for?

Toushirou gets a hug. Gets his face shoved between two glorious mounds and arms squeezing him so tightly that he wheezes and turns blue. Sucking in air by the mouthful as she pulls back to stare at him with liquidy eyes before pressing a sloppy kiss to both cheeks. She sniffles then. Face soft and open and so very relieved. Lip trembling as she holds back the tears.

Gin gets this.

"Ow! My face!"

He stumbles back from the force of her blow. Despite the fact that he braced for it and saw it coming from a mile away. Nothing less than he deserves really. But that doesn't make it feel any better.

"Liar," she throws back, stalking forward like a lioness on the prowl. "It didn't hurt that much."

Her next strike is an open-handed palm to his chest. It is followed by another to his solar plexus and two to the front of his left shoulder.

"Not so hard, Ran!"

"You idiot!" she shouts, voice surprisingly shrill. "Leaving me behind with a stupid ' _I'm sorry!_ ' And then trying to play like nothing even happened!"

Gin can't help but cringe away like a chastised puppy. Can't help the flicker of guilt that becomes a raging torrent inside of him. Buffeting his soul back in forth with wave after wave of silent self-recriminations. He just hunches defensively at her words and lets them wash over him. Lets them seep into his insides where they belong.

Nevertheless, it's almost comical for a grown man – a former captain no less – cower in such way. But the fact that it's him kills any humor. Not to mention that he feels the blood dripping down his chin and to the floor. This is the second time within five minutes that he's been punched in the face. Admittedly, Izuru hit him much harder, but his nose was already red and smarting by the time Rangiku got to it.

It doesn't quite look like she's finished either when she strides forward again. And it's all Gin can do to brace himself. Not fighting the blow. Not that at all since he knows that he deserves anything she can dish out.

Still, what man likes being slapped around? Aside from Kyouraku Shunsui, that is.

She stalks up to him with an expression not unlike a ferocious tigress. Lips pulled back and teeth barred. Eyes narrow slits as she glares up at him with her chin firm and lifted. Her hand raises, is poised for another blow. Gin can only shut his eyes and wait for it to come. Just lets her take out her anger and frustration and heartbreak in the only way he knows how.

But it never comes. The strike doesn't arrive. He simply stands there with eyes closed for ever lengthening seconds before something warm nearly crashes into his stomach. As her arms are thrown around his middle and her face presses into his chest. As she cries like she hasn't since they were both still kids and starving in the streets. Quiet little sobs that are so much more terrible for their lack of volume. For the anguish in her voice as her words drift to his ears.

"You left. How could you leave?" she asks – _demands_ –of him. "How could you do that? How could you do any of that shit?"

Her hands knot into his shirt, and her forehead presses even more firmly into his shoulder. Burrowing so far that Gin has to steady them both or end up on the floor. And his arms tighten of their own accord as her monologue continues.

"Why? Why'd you do it? Why, Gin?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats over and over back to her. "So sorry, Ran."

And it doesn't matter that his nose is still bleeding. Or that her tears have soaked through his shirt. Or that they have a growing audience in the doorway. All he can do is stare at Toushirou over her shoulder with anguish. All he can do is stand there and have Toushirou look at him helplessly. As powerless and useless as Gin himself feels.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that, Ran all but molded to him as she weeps and Toushirou hovering just out of reach. How long it takes for her to stop and eventually pull back. It feels like both an eternity and such a short time. Like a century in seconds and minutes that take a millennium. But finally, Rangiku just stands in front of him, eyes puffy and red. She's smiling now though with one hand on her hip. The other reaches up to flick him in the ear once before she turns on her heal and saunters deeper into the shop. Gin is left gaping after her.

And just like that, it's as if everything is magically all right. At least for her.

Izuru is a different story entirely. Standing off to the side where he'd gone to watch the showdown after his initial punch. His face is completely unreadable, but his body language isn't tense. More thoughtful. Perplexed perhaps. As if unsure if he should still be angry or follow after Rangiku.

He studies Gin for a long moment. Eyes tracing the trail of red from Gin's chin to his nose. Which is still bleeding even now. And then, Izuru moves forward. Slowly but with something a lot like determination in his step.

Toushirou almost goes to intercept him, but he stills at the last second. Stills as he catches a glimpse of Izuru's face. Simply watches. Like Gin himself watches as the lieutenant marches right up to him and sticks a hand in his face. As that hand glows with reiatsu and the tingle of healing kidoh.

It just takes a few seconds; Izuru has always been good at this. Good enough to make even the blood vanish as if it was never even there. The only trace left is the red droplets on the floor beneath him. The only proof he was ever injured at all.

"You really should be more careful, taichou," Izuru chastises then, and his touch is gentle as he pulls back. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to you now that we've found you again."

He sounds so familiar. Just as he used to for all the years he was Gin's second. Infinitely polite but making his opinion known behind closed doors. Keeping Gin on track with a word here, a suggestion there. A slight nudge to the left instead of the right. There whenever Gin needed him but still allowing him to make decisions on his own. The perfect lieutenant. And an even better friend.

Guilt stirs in Gin's belly at that. Not that it hadn't before. But it's stronger now. A sharp jab to the gut and then the spine. Just a friendly reminder of what an awful bastard he really is and that he doesn't deserve any of them. Not Ran, who doesn't give near as many blows as she's earned. Not Izuru, who was crushed but forgives so easily. Certainly not Toushirou. Standing at his side even now. Ready to jump in and defend him.

"It's good to have you back," Izuru continues after a second. He takes a step back and gives a short bow to Toushirou. "Hitsugaya-taichou."

And then, he walks off. Just like that. Just like Ran. As if all is well in the world. As if they show up at Urahara-san's shouten and reconcile with a backstabbing comrade all the time. As if it's no big deal that he betrayed them in the first place.

Crazy. Absolutely insane. He should be screaming at Gin. Should at the very least knock him around some more. Make him pay for what he did. Not fix his nose and then go on his merry way.

And Gin strides after him. After them both. Stalks after their trail of reiatsu. Determined to make them see reason. To make them hate him like they should. To do something more to punish him.

But he stops short in the doorway. The scene is so domestic that he practically sways at the impact of it. Ran and Izuru and all the shouten's normal myriad of residents and guests. All smiles and laughter and warmth. Not anger or censure or hostility at his entrance.

Gin doesn't even feel Toushirou come up behind him or lead him over to the far wall to sit down. He just knows that he ends up on the floor with Toushirou next to him, blue-green eyes watching him for a long moment. Studying him. Staring at him. Making Gin turn at the weight and force of his gaze and not notice anything else in the room. Finally leaning upwards when he knows that Gin both won't and can't look away.

Toushirou's lips are smooth on his, and he tastes like mint. They are turned away from most of the room, but Gin still knows that everyone can tell what they're doing. And it makes something flutter in his chest at that. At the fact that Toushirou is so bold about this. That he's not hiding it at all and doesn't care that their two newest additions can see.

And whatever guilt Gin feels. Whatever strange sensation and creature has taken up residence inside of him dies a swift and icy death. Is swept away with a whisper of frost and crisp coolness.

"Better?" Toushirou asks as he pulls back, breath a puff against his mouth.

Gin unconsciously licks his lips. "Yeah."

"Good."

Toushirou kisses him again. Soft and almost chaste. And afterwards, their fingers slide together as they shift to sit side by side once more. Toushirou lets out an exhale that is both everything and nothing. Content. Almost happy if he'd allow himself such a thing. Even without the burden of captaincy, Toushirou is still far too serious a person. Not weighted down just a muted stoicism that belies his physical appearance. That makes him fight a smile even when he's this relaxed. Even as he studies Ran and Izuru out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm glad that they're here," Toushirou admits then.

It isn't a whisper, but his voice is soft as he watches Rangiku glomping onto Hime-chan. Izuru in the meantime is sitting down to tea with Urahara-san and Ichigo. He smiles at little cute Ururu-chan as she brings him a cup. Neither of them even glances in his direction. In _their_ direction.

But Gin isn't fooled for a minute. He knows that they both saw. That they couldn't have missed it. Missed Toushirou leaning up or him leaning down. Missed the way their reiatsu weaves together even now into an invisible tapestry of affection and something much deeper. But just as he knows that, Gin knows that this is a way of silent acceptance. That they say nothing because there is nothing to say. That this is approval without the words.

Something a lot like elation bubbles inside him then. Gin can only sigh with utter and complete relief. He's no longer their captain or boss. And maybe one day, he can go back to being their friend. Can forgive himself when everyone else already has. Perhaps that day is even today.

Toushirou, for his part, just squeezes his hand and settles closer. Moving so that their knees press firmly together. So that they're sitting as close as they can possibly be without actually occupying the same space or doing something wildly inappropriate.

No one comments on that either.

"I'm glad they're here," Toushirou repeats after a minute.

Gin smiles beside him. "Me, too."


	18. In Transit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The maximal amount of damage with the minimal amount of effort. Aizen's modus operandi. And there's nothing Gin can do about it. (#21: Violence, Pillage/Plunder, Extortion.)

There are some things he just knows. Can just understand without thought or reasoning. The understanding of where an opponent will move next. What will make them flinch. How powerful they are at a glance. The steps necessary to disable or destroy. To bring them to their knees.

Plots and impressions and instincts all wrapped up in a convoluted web of action and reaction and potential outcomes. Insights as the heartbeats stretch out, and he parries. Then feints to the left. A jab to the right. Followed by a step closer, right under the proverbial nose. Open palm to the chest. Elbow to the gut. Finally the disarm. Shinsou held at a throat. Waiting. Deciding.

Wondering. Pondering the chill that goes down his spine and the eyes he can feel on his back. Knowing that if he turns no one will be there. Understanding that he has to look but unwilling to let his gaze stray from the opponent in front of him. The one he can actually see.

And Gin is suddenly afraid.

It really is all too good a metaphor for his current situation. Soul Society and the Shinigami in front of him. Aizen and his forces at his back. Hidden by the shadows and just out of sight. But he knows that they're there. Is just waiting for them to strike.

But time stretches on, and they don't. It's quiet. Far too quiet. Aizen's been too quiet. Just little skirmishes with the Arrancar. A few with the Espada. But not nearly enough. Not nearly as many as there should be.

Gin deserted him. Deserted his oh-so-lofty cause. Stole a valuable prisoner, smuggled him out of Las Noches, brought him to safety. And caused a heap of damage, chaos, and discord in the process. Injured a few former allies along the way and quite possibly in a fatal manner. Trashed an incalculable amount of Aizen's plans and all but sold the man out to his enemies.

And then…

Nothing.

No obvious reprisal. No Espada come to call him out. No Tousen to drag him back kicking and screaming or just trussed up. No attacks in the night. Or shadows jumping out as he walks down the street. Rarely even a stray Hollow most days.

Just nothing.

Aizen's a master of the mental mindfuckery. Gin knows that. Understands it on some fundamental level. Hell, he's not exactly Mr. Sunshine-and-Daises himself. But even with that, there should've been something. Some sign. Some hint. Some misdirection to tangle him into knots. To confuse him so utterly that he won't be able to tell which way is up by the time his former captain is through.

Perhaps the waiting is the worst part. Maybe that's his game this time. Having Gin know that something is on the horizon but not what. With not even the faintest a clue when or where it will fall. But knowing, feeling it in the very depths of his soul that it won't be a direct assault. That he'll be outflanked. That Aizen won't try for him, rather for an all too tempting side target.

The shouten. Urahara-san and his helpers. Smart Tessai-san and belligerent Jinta-kun and shy Ururu-chan. Yoruichi-san. Ichigo and his friends. Quiet Sado-kun. Hime-chan who does their laundry. Ishida-kun who made him all new clothes. Or even sweet Retsu-san. All the others.

Toushirou.

And it'll be at the worst possible moment. When Gin least expects it. Probably while he's fighting someone else or is most distracted. And that'll be the end of it. The end of him.

He just hopes that he doesn't take them all down with him. Isn't the crack in the armor that lets the following sword slice through. The leak in the ship that makes it sink. The one body that tips the scale permanently in Aizen's favor.

That, Gin thinks, would be even worse than dying himself. Knowing that he caused all of his friends – new and old alike – to die with him.

Somehow, he manages to untangle himself from Toushirou and slip free from their futon, leaving his bedmate to burrow into his nest of covers. The floor of the shouten is cool beneath Gin's feet as he ghosts into and down the hall. Everything is dark around him as he enters the kitchen, and even Urahara-san has long ago gone to bed. But the prickle at his skin and the subtle taste of reiatsu are enough for him to know that he isn't alone. Retsu-san is the sole figure in the connecting room. Silently sipping at her tea as she stares out the opened door and into the spring night just beyond. She smiles at his approach and pours him a cup, beckoning him to sit beside her.

"Coulda sworn ya went back this afternoon," Gin says by way of greeting. Not really drinking his tea and only just playing with the cup.

That earns him a soft chuckle.

"Oh, I did," she assures. "But I feel that my time is better spent here. As far as those in Seireitei are concerned, I'm off on one of my trips to the mountains, procuring rare healing herbs."

"And how're ya gonna explain the lack of 'em when ya get back?" he questions with a glance in her direction.

"They do have herbs in the living world, you know," Retsu-san replies almost conspiratorially. "And in a wider variety than even I am able to normally find. Urahara-san and the others at the shop have been most helpful in obtaining them."

He makes a noncommittal sound in response to that. Not sure what else to say. And silence descends between them. Both staring out into the darkness. Her at the grass and the bushes in the distance along the high fence at the back of the property. Him at nothing in particular as his thoughts and memories churn inside of him in a violent dance. One that makes his stomach threaten to revolt.

He thinks of what has brought him here. The things he's done that have led him to this point. Betrayal. Loss. Retribution. Aizen. Pain. Heartbreak. Both in the past with more sure to come.

And all for a boy. A snarky, strict, belligerent, frosty boy. Who still prefers frowns over smiles even now. Who acts older than he looks and thinks that candy is a sort of mockery. Who kicks in his sleep and insists on shoving cold feet on Gin's skin. Who hogs the covers and still flushes red whenever Gin steals a kiss. Who is a master at the cold shoulder but is also earnest and so painfully honest.

Who forgave Gin without making him beg for it. Without demanding the blood and agony he's so certainly owed.

He was lost. Misguided. Idiotic. Weak. Foolish. All of the above.

But Toushirou forgave and forgot so easily. They all did.

And now, they were going to pay for it. Even more so than they would've already. Aizen will find some way to hurt them. Some way to strike at them to hurt Gin. To make him powerless. To make him suffer.

The maximal amount of damage with the minimal amount of effort. Aizen's modus operandi. And there's nothing Gin can do about it. Nothing to halt the rising tide or the wave of violence and misery heading his way.

A sudden move beside him makes Gin start, but her hand is warm on his shoulder. Soothing and soft like her eyes as she smiles down at him. And part of him thinks this is what it's like to have a mother. To have someone who looks at him with affection no matter his mistakes. Who always has a kind word regardless of her own disappointment with him.

That smile grows almost beatific then. As if she can read his thoughts. Or perhaps they're just that obvious on his face as she reaches up to put her free hand on his cheek.

"You weren't lost, my boy. Just misplaced for awhile," she says then, as if it's not a complete non sequitur. "But just as you weathered that. We'll weather this. All of us together. You and me. Those at the shop. And dear Hitsugaya-kun as well. It will all work out in the end," Retsu-san promises. "You'll see."

He closes his eyes at the feather soft feel of her lips to his forehead. At her hand running through his hair.

When he opens them a second later, she's already gone. Gin just sighs and rises to take his cup to sink in the kitchen, washing both it and the one she used along with the pot. Lingering for a few minutes more before slowly heading back to his room.

Sometime during his absence, Toushirou has rolled over to his side of the futon they now share. And he stirs as Gin pulls back the blankets and moves to lie down. Blue-green eyes are glassy and only half-open as he scoots in closer. His icy toes find Gin's shin at the exact second that he buries his nose in Gin's neck, and he's unconscious again before his bedmate can even settle in fully. Breath soft and deep against the Gin's skin. The sleep of the righteous but overworked and understandably exhausted. Cool to the touch but pliable as Gin shifts them both to get comfortable. Dead to the world for all that he's still breathing.

Sleep for Gin, however, is a long time coming.


	19. Not Quite Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gin was having a very bad, horrible, no good day. And really, it was times like this that he missed being evil. (#7: Superstar.)

Ichimaru Gin was having a very bad, horrible, no good day. And his day was only getting worse as he went through the streets of Karakura. Quite possibly running for his life.

Perhaps it was some form of karma. Divine retribution for his unremembered past lives. Gods above and below, he knew that he'd done enough bad things this time around. He could only imagine what he was like before, and he'd bet year's worth of his old salary that none of it was pretty either.

Or maybe it was the result of something a bit closer to home. Something a bit more recent. Maybe Aizen's plan for revenge was to drive him insane. Or at least, to make him very put out.

Either way, it seemed to be working.

His morning had actually started out rather well. Snuggled in his blankets with Toushirou curled up on his side. White hair trickling his chin and the feel of an arm slung over him. Toushirou's breath warm on his neck.

Then, he'd opened his eyes.

Their room was covered in frost. An inch thick coating of ice on pretty much everything but him, his bed buddy, and their futon. The floor. The walls. Even the ceiling. Dripping down to land on the top of Gin's head.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the source of this problem either. And a hastily shaken awake Toushirou hadn't seemed the least bit surprised. Contrite, yes. Mortified, definitely. But not surprised. He'd only reddened. Looked everywhere but at Gin. And had quietly informed him that this occasionally happened to him and had seen he'd still lived with his grandmother.

Like wetting the bed. Only not quite as embarrassing. But far more painful when Toushirou jabbed him in the stomach for that comment, gathered up his clothes as Gin was still trying to relearn how to breathe, and then stomped off to the bathroom to change. Leaving Gin to dry their room the best he could as he wheezed and rubbed his blossoming bruise.

It'd all gone downhill from there.

Typical day in Karakura. Birds singing. Children playing soccer in the park. Hollows on a rampage. Worse yet, Hollows on a rampage during breakfast and right before he could have his first bite. Worse still, when the Hollows on a rampage were actually what looked to be an Espada or three, an assortment of Adjuchas, and a Vasto Lorde.

Three guesses which one Gin got to fight.

And he had to do it while also keeping out of sight of the random Shinigami who'd decided to make an appearance. Not that they were any use in the battle or anything. Mostly, it just seemed to be Soifon berating Urahara-san while her lackeys watched. Oh, and Byakuya-hime and his little sister, who'd been visiting Ichigo or something like that.

So basically, the two captains most likely to skewer him on sight. Aside from the old man, that was. Which was probably the lone bright spot of this whole debacle.

And really, it was times like this that Gin missed being evil. Missed being part of Team Traitor. But then, he remembered that Aizen was a megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur bent on world domination and that he wanted to kill or enslave them all.

That and his tea tasted terrible, and he refused to believe otherwise.

Gin beat his opponent. Which wasn't easy, by the way. Even though they weren't Arrancar, those things were fierce. But with his currently abysmal luck, he'd defeated the Vasto Lorde. Only to be seen by Soifon as he was leaving the scene of the crime. She'd taken one look at him, drenched in blood and undoubtedly looking like the lone survivor of a massacre. Snapped out orders to her subordinates. And then had followed in hot pursuit.

Which had led him to here.

"Stop tryin' ta kill me," he called over his shoulder. Dodging a kidoh to the back and using his momentum to propel him to the next rooftop.

Soifon responded by throwing another kidoh. "Stop trying to run away," she shouted back.

Gin probably could've outrun her on a good day. On a happy day with nothing but sunshine and flowers and rainbows and unicorns. But he'd just fought a Vasto Lorde. Was now covered in blood and even his socks were soaked. Had missed breakfast. And had gotten into a not-quite-argument with his not-quite-lover.

And she was such a tempting target. Practically asking for it.

He skidded to a halt on a building halfway between the high school and Urahara-san's shop. He didn't draw Shinsou. Just relaxed, sat back, and waited for the fun to begin as she dropped down to his level with narrowed eyes. Hesitating a fraction of a second before springing into action.

Soifon was fast; he'd give her that. All sneaky and lightening quick. But Gin wasn't a Vizard for nothing, and all that training with Ichigo did have a purpose.

He sidestepped and ducked under the foot sent flying at his head. Twisted around a blow from her zanpakutou. Deflected a punch from her other hand. Slid by an elbow to the chest. Avoided the following nerve jab. And evaded a roundhouse kick.

All within the span of a few seconds. All without her landing a single hit.

Now, it was Gin's turn. He feinted left but snapped back that direction when she went to block his right. An elbow of his own was blocked, but he'd counted on that. Using the opportunity to sneak in a jab to her shoulder that dropped her back a half-step. In the heartbeat it took Soifon to adjust, he freed Shinsou from his sash but kept her in her sheath.

That only seemed to annoy his former colleague, who renewed her attack with unexpected vigor. Slashing with her blade. Kicking with her feet. Punching left, right, and center. And being altogether a nuisance.

Gin dodged it all. Waited for his chance. And took it as he blocked her sword. Stepped on one foot to keep her in place. Used his free hand to lock her right arm. Then, he hit her square in the forehead with Shinsou's pommel. Almost like a konsou gone horribly wrong.

Her grey eyes momentarily widened before rolling back into her head, and Soifon dropped like a sack of bricks. Gin was even nice enough to catch her. Setting her down face first to kiss the rooftop. No need for her to plummet off the building by accident, now was there? Besides, all he needed for her to do was to land on some poor unfortunate passerby. Especially in this town where everyone and their brother could see ghosts. And knowing his luck, somebody had already noticed their fight.

Then, like he'd summoned down a snowstorm, there was a prickling at his spine and a sudden chill to the air. Both of which let Gin know that he'd jinxed himself yet again. He did a slow and creeping turn. Only to see Stark – the first Espada, _numero uno_ – standing all of twenty feet away. Complete with his _Fracción_ who wasn't really a _Fracción_ at all.

And yes, that still sort of broke Gin's brain.

Stark just gave a little wave. And took a step closer, hand resting on his blade's hilt. Which only made Gin really wanted to bite something. Or perhaps just hit it. Really, really hard.

"Oh, fer fuck's sake," he practically growled. "And I suppose yer here ta kill me, too."

But the Espada shook his head. "No, I'm actually not here for that," Stark informed him, both hands going to his pockets.

Gin blinked. And replayed that in his head to make sure he'd heard right. No, still came out sounding like he wasn't about to get stabbed. Of course, that always left room for bludgeoning. Getting smacked around. As long as he survived, it still technically counted.

"Yer not?" he finally asked.

Since really, he needed a bit more clarification.

"Nope." Stark offered a little smile. "Las Noches was getting a twinge uncomfortable. So Lilinette and I decided to come check out your new digs."

Gin was certain he'd suffered a blow to the head somewhere along the way. That'd sounded like Stark was defecting. Or more likely, looking for a more comfortable bed.

"Really?" Gin questioned. "Yer sure 'bout that? Not gonna change yer mind when my back's turned?"

"Yep, we're sure." Stark agreed amicably, while Lilinette beside him cocked a hip. "That okay with you?"

Well, yeah. Gin could live with that. And he told Stark as much. But he still made them walk in front of him on his way back to shouten. Which was only after he hit Soifon with a sleeping kidoh to make sure her nap would be nice and long and disorienting.

He took the back way into the shop after making sure the coast was clear. None of the Shinigami were there. Probably out looking for their boss. But just from reiatsu alone, Gin could tell that everyone else was back and that Hirako-tai… _Shinji_ had tagged along. Toushirou was in the underground training area with Yoruichi-san and Hime-chan, doing kami only knew what. And shouldn't Hime be in school anyway? But it probably wasn't a good idea to go there to check it out. Not with their guests in tow at any rate.

"Brought home a new friend, I see," Urahara-san commented as Gin walked in the dining room and over to the table. "Two new friends," he corrected after a second.

"This is Stark." Gin jerked a thumb to his left. "He didn't try ta kill me today. And that's Lilinette. She's just along fer the ride."

"Well, that was friendly of him," Shinji agreed as he set down his teacup. "Two of Sou-chan's beloved children, I take it. Come ta join the fun of the not-evil side."

"Slightly less evil," Urahara-san corrected, but he was eyeing the newcomers with intent. "Do come sit down. The least I can do is offer you tea."

Stark exchanged a glance with Gin before moving to the table. Taking Lilinette by the shoulder and along with him.

"We were hoping to stay a bit longer than just for that," the now ex-Espada admitted.

Stark again looked at Gin, who was already heading for the door. Planning to let them sort it out. And he just gave him his typical grin and ducked into the hallway.

"Oh?" Urahara-san questioned then. "But where exactly are we to put you?"

"We've got room fer 'em, Kisuke," Shinji started to say. "Can't be any worse than that Nel kid and her brothers Ichigo dumped on us…"

And then, Gin was out of listening range. He really should've stayed and had something to eat what with no breakfast and all. But he didn't really want to deal with any of that. And well, he was still drenched in icky Hollow blood and in horrible need of a shower. He was surprised that they couldn't smell him from down the street or at Ichigo's school even. The shower practically called to him by name.

Gin was still toweling his hair dry nearly an hour later as he made his way back to his room. It'd taken him this long just to get clean mostly because his little sojourn with Soifon had given everything a nasty chance to dry. And it'd crusted in some surprising and uncomfortable places. He registered a very familiar person just as he slid open the door, and Gin blinked beneath his towel at the sight before him.

It was Toushirou. It was Toushirou, and was that a tray full of food with him perchance? A tray full of what could quite possibly be a lunch for both of them? Maybe? Perhaps?

Seemed like as Gin cautiously approached, still wary of a repeat performance from this morning, and very slowly sat down. Careful not to be too close to Toushirou and be within hitting range. But not too far and offend him even more. A delicate balance really. Like bathing in gasoline and then playing with matches. Tickling the sleeping dragon and then sticking around to see what'd happen.

Only this dragon didn't do anything more than watch him and give a sharp nod. Helping himself to dishing out his own plate and silently making sure that Gin did, too. Until they were both staring at each other over their meal. Gin wondering if he was actually allowed to eat it. And Toushirou… well, it was sometimes hard to tell just what the hell he was doing. Just studying Gin's face as though looking for parts he neglected to clean and giving a strange sniff.

"You smell much better now," Toushirou commented then.

The sound Gin made in response was the mutated lovechild of a cough and a choke. It was only fortunate that he hadn't started to eat yet. That would've undoubtedly been bad on many levels. Not the least of which was dying in such an embarrassing and pathetic way.

"Eh… Thanks," Gin managed once he could speak again and not sound like a complete moron.

"I saw you going into the bathroom earlier," Toushirou said by way of explanation and then paused. As if considering. As if weighing his next words. "Inoue healed me after the fight, you know. She said that you fought the Vasto Lorde."

Gin took the opportunity to take a bite. It was good. _Really_ good. Which meant it wasn't the aforementioned Hime-chan's work. Definitely not Urahara-san's either.

"Yeah," he finally replied after taking impossibly long to chew. "I did. I was the best choice fer it."

And Gin thought that'd be the end of it. Only Toushirou didn't move to start eating.

"She said that you immediately zeroed in on it," his companion continued, eyes an intense sort of almost green. "That you didn't even hesitate. Got it to chase after you and took it away from the school."

Gin froze with chopsticks midway to his mouth. And glanced up to see that Toushirou had an expression he'd never quite seen before. Something not soft but not hard either.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time" was all Gin said to that.

Toushirou nodded again. Still not eating. Still watching him. Even as the seconds stretched into minutes and their food began to cool. Until his face eased into something that could almost be called a smile. If Gin squinted a lot.

"I… I'm glad that you're here with us. That you're not with them anymore."

His voice was soft but firm. Full of things neither of them could say. Yet.

Gin gazed at him for a long moment. Searching his face. His eyes. Seeing only himself reflected there. Feeling the icy chill to the air that always hovered around Toushirou like a particularly aggressive guard dog. Only right now, it wasn't so much cold as crisp. Curling around the two of them and breathing easy and deep.

"I'm glad, too," Gin admitted finally.

Toushirou looked at him a second longer and picked up his chopsticks. Not saying anything more. Just gradually inching closer until their knees brushed. Focusing on his food like he hadn't noticed Gin moving nearer, too.

Gin, for his part, took it in stride. Not wanting to ruin it.

After all, things were actually starting to look up.


	20. Darkest Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paranoia wasn't a new thing for him. As such, it came as no surprise that Toushirou was absolutely, totally and completely, one hundred percent certain that someone was out to get him. (#18: "Say ahh…")

Paranoia wasn't exactly a new thing for him. Really, it wasn't. It came with the territory, he supposed. Came with being a captain and having several hundred subordinates who'd much rather fuck around that actually do their jobs. Came with having Matsumoto as his second and her drunken revels as a staple of his office and the division at large. Came with being one of the few sane souls in Seireitei. Not prone to hysterics or madness or melodramatics.

As such, it came as no surprise that Toushirou was absolutely, totally and completely, one hundred percent certain that someone was out to get him. Or more likely, that he'd enraged some all-powerful being in a past life and he – or she, to be fair and nonsexist – was now reaping their vengeance.

Watery eyes. Red and irritated nose. A rebelling stomach. An achy body that alternated between freezing and burning hotter than Ryuujin Jakka when the captain-commander had found his office trashed. And tired, so damn tired all the damn time.

A curse indeed. There was no other explanation for his current state. None. None at all. Nothing less than the wrath of an angry god or even one of Matsumoto's inebriated plots could put him in such a state. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

Unohana claimed it was just a cold. Just a routine and insignificant illness. But that didn't even make sense. How could a dead person get sick? He was a freaking spirit!

He wasn't ill. It was divine retribution dammit! A pestilence sent down from on high just for him. Just like Matsumoto's enormous chest only more personalized this time. Something that didn't require her to hang around to keep on smothering. Not that she and her assets weren't bad enough by themselves. And really, he wondered if those things were big enough to qualify as their own life form(s). They certainly seemed to have a mind of their own. Bouncing and jiggling and trying to strangle the life out of him on multiple occasions and…

Focus, Toushirou, focus.

Divine vengeance. A combination of plague and a plot to make him go insane. Not just through annoyance. No, that wasn't enough on its own. Certainly not. Confined to his bed by a smiling Unohana – she-devil! Forced to languish there with nothing to distract him as paperwork undoubtedly piled up in his office. With only the dim haze of unconsciousness to ease the hours of torment.

But now… now, things were appearing. As if by magic. As if by some taunting god. Put there just to befuddle him. To induce utter bewilderment. To make his brain into jelly and have it ooze out his ears.

Sleep. Wake. Oh, look! Someone had set out some medicine. Conveniently placed right next to his futon so he couldn't miss it.

Sleep some more. Grudgingly wake up. And look. Food this time. A still warm meal of rice and soup with his favorite kind of tea.

More sleep. Waking to find that he was covered in more blankets than he remembered owning.

Followed by more medicine and a glass of water. Then another meal – a different kind of soup this time but still just as warm. More tea. More water. More medicine. Fresh blankets. Fluffed pillows. And what even felt like a hand running through his hair before he managed to peel his eyes open all the way.

Every time! Like he had his own personal army of ninja-servants. Just awaiting his every need. Making him even more useless. Torturing him with his weakness.

He wasn't sick. He wasn't. Dammit. And he wasn't a kid to be coddled. A little boy who needed his grandmother to hold his hand and sit by his bed. Not that he ever objected to either when she was still alive.

He wasn't sick. He wasn't ill. Toushirou was cursed. And he'd prove it to them. He would. Soon. Eventually. Maybe. Once he could finally manage to get out of bed and make it farther than the bathroom without shaking and needing to rest several times on along the way. Of course, he might also want to wait until he could make it more than ten minutes without falling asleep. Particularly when he did so on the trip back from the toilet.

Only waking when he was set down on his bed by an outside force that most certainly wasn't him. And he was hazarding a guess that it wasn't Unohana or Matsumoto either. The first had smaller hands. And from their position, the latter would've already given him a full frontal assault with her assets.

"Wha'?" Toushirou managed to force out through his scratchy throat. Trying and failing to focus him gaze. Wincing at the lance of pain that shot through his eyeballs and straight through to his brain and out the other side of his skull.

"Ya'll only make it worse if ya keep doing that," someone male said then. "Ya need ta take it easy. Yer still too sick."

And Toushirou had a moment to wonder who the hell this was. If his wrathful god of choice and damnation had finally come to kill him. To put him out of his misery.

But that was only until his words sank in.

"'m not sick," Toushirou mumbled feebly and swatted very ineffectually at the hands that were even now pulling up his covers the rest of the way and tucking him in. If he'd been able to focus his eyes better, he would've glared. As it were, he could only turn his woozy gaze in the general direction of a black and silver blob.

That only earned him a laugh.

"Of course, yer not. Not at all. But go back ta sleep anyway."

"Not sick. Cursed…" Toushirou muttered. "It's a curse."

Another laugh.

"Suppose that's one way o' lookin' at it."

A hand brushed his hair from his face before slipping behind his neck. Supporting his head as a glass pressed to Toushirou's mouth. He would've argued, but the cool water was like balm to his soul. Surely, this deity couldn't be too terrible if he was giving Toushirou sweet relief like this. Unless it was all a plan to prolong his agony.

He was still contemplating that when the glass was pulled away, all of the wondrous water now gone. He was gently lowered back to his pillow, and his eyes slipped closed of their own accord. He was just resting them; he was! Not like he could see anything anyway. And perhaps he was a bit tired. Just a wee, little, tiny bit.

"Sleep," the vengeful, completely arrogant, bastard of a god murmured – commanded, more like.

And Toushirou felt lips pressed to his forehead for just a second. Felt another hand card through his undoubtedly disgusting hair.

"Sleep," his tormentor repeated softly.

Toushirou was out before he could even think to argue.


	21. No More Tomorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock ticks by the last few free minutes. The sand from the hourglass spills through his fingers. Gin's run out of time. (#4: Our Distance and That Person.)

In the end, no matter how Retsu-chan encourages or Izuru hints, Gin stays poised on the precipice. He could take that final plunge, that last little step. Out from the shadows and into the sunlight.

But somehow, he never does. He's always too busy. There's always something else going on. The old man to please. Aizen-taichou to answer. His own division to lead. Too many reasons. Far too many excuses.

And then… Then, Kuchiki Rukia is captured and brought back to Seireitei by her brother. Aizen-taichou smiles and brings their plans to the next stage. And the clock ticks by the last few free minutes. The sand from the hourglass spills through his fingers.

Gin's out of time. He can feel it in his very bones. Hear it in the words as they leave Kuchiki-hime's thin lips and vibrate the air. See it in the gleam of Aizen-taichou's glasses as they catch the light.

There's so little time left and even less so as the old man dismisses them. As the captains file out one by one and he's standing beside Izuru just outside the first division without even knowing how he got there. As he notices Hitsugaya pass them by, scant inches away.

So close. Too close. All he has to do is reach out. For a wild second, Gin even starts to do just that. To lift his hand and snag a sleeve.

But then, he tastes the barest whisper of Aizen-taichou's reiatsu behind them. His shoulder blades twitch, and a trickle crawls down his spine from the force of those eyes on him. That freezes Gin in place more effectively than Hyourinmaru ever could. Stops him short and cold, and all he can do is snap his fingers back as though scalded. He just watches Hitsugaya and the swish of his white haori as he strides out of sight. Gin stands there staring minutes after he's gone, not daring to move until Aizen-taichou has finally left. He lets out a shaky breath when the man finally does and turns back to his second.

Innocent little Izuru has missed it entirely. At least, the part with Aizen-taichou. Instead, his lieutenant is watching him with a knowing half-smile. He opens his mouth – undoubtedly to offer some insinuating tease – but Gin beats him to it.

"Let's go," he says and doesn't even wait for him to follow as he hurries away.

His office is stifling when he arrives. Hot and stuffy as he shuffles over to his seat and collapses into it with the grace of an old and broken man. It isn't even that warm outside yet, but somehow, Gin feels like he has entered a sauna and taken up residence. Sweat drips down his back underneath the layers of his shihakushou, and his skin is moist, almost clammy. His brain swims in his head. Not hurting but not alright either.

He briefly wonders if he's come down with something. If maybe all of this is some fever-induced hallucination. If it's some sketched together nightmare from an ill mind. If perhaps he'll wake up to find the world as it's always been. If the clock will be rewound.

Gin doesn't know how long he sits there or remember filling out his paperwork as he does. He doesn't even notice that he's only blankly gazing at his now empty desk until Izuru clears his throat. He jerks up to see that his office is filled with shadows and the sunlight has shifted from bright yellow to a deep red. His lieutenant studies him from the doorway with mounting concern, and Gin thinks to reassure him, to dismiss his worries with some playful comment.

However, his mouth can't quite seem to form the words. His throat is too dry, and the room is too hot. Reality tilts before his eyes and sways from side to side. His heart pounds in his chest, and he can feel the pulse of it in his throat.

"Are you alright?" his second questions then, but it sounds like he's very far away.

Gin can't quite focus on him. Can't quite find the strength to meet his eyes.

"Taichou?"

But Gin isn't listening. He's lost to his own world of heat and suffocation and something all too much like despair crawling in his soul. He feels like he's on the edge. That this is the end, and he can't scramble back up the cliff.

And it's hot. So hot in here. He can't breathe. He can't think.

Then, somewhere beyond the far wall, there is a sudden spike of reiatsu. A cold blast of pure ice and draconic excellence. He knows without really knowing that Hitsugaya has just released his shikai somewhere within the city. But there's no anger, no sense of urgency. Just training then. Probably sparing with his division.

But even all this distance away, Gin can still feel Hyourinmaru coiling through the sky. Can still taste the arctic bite to the air and feel his office go from summer sweltering to refreshingly cool. Gin basks in it. In the sensation of ice that drives the heat from his body. In the kiss of frost that coats his soul and beckons him to come out to play. To rise from his desk and fly free from the building. A siren's song all the way back to its maker and master.

His eyes find Hitsugaya of their own accord, and he stares as if willing himself to see through the stones and walls that separate them. As if he could see that reality matches the painted picture in his mind. Hitsugaya with his white hair stirring in the breeze of his own reiatsu. Haori rimmed by frost and blue-green eyes blazing brighter than the sun.

He doesn't even have to imagine the dragon's roar that resounds in the air then. Gin can feel it in his very bones. Can feel that gaze flicker his direction for an instant before he's jolted back to himself.

He takes a breath and opens his eyes – when had he even closed them? – to find his lieutenant inches away. There's a hand on his wrist and one at his forehead, and Izuru seems well on his way to panic. To sending for the fourth and Retsu-chan or maybe just bodily hauling his captain there himself.

It's funny really. And painfully sad. He'll miss this, Gin realizes. Miss Seireitei and the people in it. Retsu-chan. Izuru. Rangiku. Hitsugaya. He'll miss them all and never be able to explain himself. To explain why he did this. Why he sided with Aizen.

And perhaps this is his punishment for that. This is his penance for not seeing the truth earlier. For not taking the thousand and one opportunities offered up to him before. But there aren't any more of those either, and maybe that's his punishment, too. Maybe this is his path. His destiny. His end.

"Do you believe in fate, Izuru?" Gin asks before he can stop himself, and he's not even certain where the words come from or what drives him to say it.

His lieutenant draws up short. Instantly going from concerned to flat out flummoxed. His mouth works wordlessly. As though he can't quite figure out if he heard that right.

Gin merely sighs. His gaze is still fixed on the same spot as before. Looking at something – someone – not even there. Looking and wondering. Already knowing deep inside that he's run out of time. That he had so many chances and wasted every single one of them.

"Never mind," Gin dismisses. "Just thinkin' out loud."

He's quiet so long afterwards that his lieutenant surely has to believe him comatose or delirious again, but Gin is really only pondering. Only considering the possibilities of the universe as he feels another burst of arctic chill before Hyourinmaru is shielded and sheathed once again.

He sighs a second time and feels bereft. Feels like he's just been run through as heat creeps back into his limbs and threatens to pull him down into the abyss. It's already too much, and he's already had enough. He's too tired for this.

"Taichou?" Izuru begins then, tone puzzled and anxious. "What did you mean by that?"

"It doesn't matter," Gin replies softly. Wearily. "Just a thought."

Izuru doesn't quite seem to believe him. No surprise there. But Gin just doesn't care. It's barely past sunset and the day he normally stays late in the office, but Gin can't stand to be here another second. The air grows stifling again, threatening to suffocate him with its heaviness. The room is once more hot and closed in, and his hands tighten and flex of their own accord. He's gone beyond sweaty to downright drenched and starting to lose his energy again. Can now hardly find the energy to lift his head.

He can't be here anymore.

Gin somehow manages to rise from his desk, smack away Izuru's helping hands, and stagger for the exit. His lieutenant hovers as he moves by, and there's a gleam in his eyes. Something conspiring and hopeful. But Gin knows that he's way off base with this one. That what Izuru thinks he's off to do, what he thinks should happen, and reality are very far apart.

And if that isn't the story of Gin's life, he doesn't know what is.

"Goodnight, Taichou," his lieutenant calls after him. Voice light and gentle. Full of affection and a hint of worry.

Gin feels his back stiffen. Feels the weight of the world press down on him. Feels every choice and half-truth and lost opportunity stab at his soul.

But it's too late now. Too late to do what he should've done years ago. There's no more time. No more tomorrows.

And instead, he exhales very slowly and tips his head. "Bye, Izuru."

Then, he walks away. He doesn't dare look back.


	22. A Silence in Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good part of evil was that he never had to say he was sorry. (#28: Wada Calcium CD3.)

The snow is soft but crisp as it falls. He can see his breath fog with every exhale. It's nearly too late in the year for it to be this cold, but it is anyway. As frosty and frozen as Hyourinmaru turned loose to bathe the world in winter.

His mask is still warm against his face, however. Warm and alive as he pulls it down with his fingertips. Gin absorbs the blow sent his way in the same manner that he would a snowflake. It has roughly the same effect. Doing nothing more than dripping against his already chilled skin.

It's over an instant after that. Another Espada's dead at his feet. Then a second less than a heartbeat later. In less time than it takes him to breathe and move two steps. So quick, so effortless.

So worthless.

The good part of evil was that he never had to say he was sorry. Never had to stay and watch the aftermath. Never had to walk up to the spirit of a scared little girl and her mother afterwards to send them on. Never had to see them stare at his mask in horror and cower until Toushirou performs their soul burials instead.

It was so easy when he pretended not to care.

But this?

This is hard. So hard.

Take his medicine; he'll feel better. But nothing will ever make this better. Nothing will take away that memory of revulsion. Of the sight of a child shrieking in terror at his approach. Of the taste of bile on his tongue as he takes a step back.

He closes his eyes behind his mask, which he hasn't even thought of removing yet, when he hears Toushirou's footfalls stop directly in front of him. His eyes snap open when he feels his mask pushed to the side. Toushirou's breath is minty on his cheek, and the following kiss is just as cool against his lips. Soft and barely there and worth more than anything.

Gin feels the ache in his chest thaw then. It melts more as a second kiss is pressed more firmly to his mouth. Then a third. And internal ice is released as vapor.

Toushirou pulls his mask all the way off afterwards and holds it in his hands. His fingers stroke over the surface of their own accord, and Gin can see a thousand different things in his blue-green eyes. A hundred different statements and reassurances.

_I'm not afraid._

_You're not a monster._

_She was just scared._

_I've already forgiven you._

_Let's go home._

But he says none of them. In the end, he doesn't have to.

He simply turns and starts walking for the shop. Steps slow and even and at a pace that says he's just waiting for Gin to catch up.

The Hollow's mask is still in his hand.

More than anything, that makes Gin walk fast enough to reach him. Close enough that their sleeves brush. Easy enough that he doesn't even fill the silence. Relaxed enough that he drops his guard and just appreciates the soft snowfall.

They never even see the shadow that follows them.


	23. Lonely Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He followed the blood drops like little fox footprints in the snow. (#6: The Space Between Dream and Reality.)

He followed the blood drops like little fox footprints in the snow. Only there wasn't any snow. It wasn't even cold. It was nearly October, and it felt like he'd stepped into an oven that morning when he'd left the shouten.

It was dusk now, but sweat still collected along his brow as he paced the scattered specks of reddish brown. Shunpo would've been faster, but there was too much of a chance that he'd overstep and miss some important clue. That the trail would divert along the way, and he'd lose it entirely.

Nonetheless, Toushirou went faster as the number of drops grew. They now came in twos and threes for every step he took, and soon enough, they seemed more like streaks across the pavement than individual spots. Staggering back and forth erratically as though the originator had become confused. As if he didn't know where he'd been or where he was going much less how to get there.

His heart thrummed inside of him as he sped up even more. He was as close to shunpo as possible without actually doing it, but haste was more important than accuracy now. Particularly since he could taste the stray tendrils of reiatsu in the air and knew that he was near. Close. So damn close. As that reiatsu grew both paradoxically stronger and weaker. As he rolled it on his tongue and realized just how stale it'd become. As he turned the corner and froze for a split second.

Toushirou didn't say his name. The word was caught in his suddenly too dry throat. He didn't remember running to Gin's side. Or even kneeling beside him. All he knew next was the weight of Gin's head in his arms and the chill of skin long gone cold. He didn't even feel the sopping hardness of congealed blood on his knees or the scrape along his knuckles where his fingers had kissed the street in his haste.

There was only Toushirou, alive and heaving in breath like a drowning man. And Gin, who was not.

There weren't words for his horror. For the sound he made or the impossible heaviness in his chest. For the coldness in his soul as it frosted over and his heart broke into a million pieces.

He didn't know how long he knelt. How much time passed before his hand fell nervelessly from Gin's shoulder, but instead of landing on harsh pavement, his skin hit metal. Toushirou jumped as something bit into his flesh. He blinked and dazedly lifted his arm to see that a line of his own blood was forming on his palm. Then, he glanced down.

It was Shinsou. It was Shinsou, and she was still there. Still present. Not just physically. Not just as a sword. But Toushirou could actually feel her. She hadn't faded yet. She was still there. Still solid. Still stirring beneath the surface. Still screaming to get his attention.

_Screaming_.

Not crying. Not mourning. But actual screams. She was afraid. Terrified even. She was trying to warn him. She and Hyourinmaru both were trying to warn him now that he actually listened.

If anything, Toushirou went even colder. His blood was ice in his veins as he looked at Gin again, really looked at him, and realized that something felt _off_. The body looked like Gin, its lingering reiatsu felt like Gin, but it wasn't him.

There was no new scar above his left eyebrow from failing to duck during a spar against Hirako, and his hands lacked the recent calluses from so many hours training with Kurosaki. Nor did his fingernails bare evidence of Inoue and Matsumoto's handiwork that still refused to wash off, and his hair was too long, especially since Unohana-san had just cut it. His clothes were wrong, too. His shirt didn't look anything like the new one Ishida had made that he'd worn just that morning.

This was wrong. This wasn't the Gin he knew so well. This wasn't the Gin who'd shared his room and his bed for the last few months.

It was wrong. All wrong. All fake.

Hyourinmaru shook in the sheath on his back just then, and Shinsou trembled even harder in his hand. Both of them shrieked at him. Two voices that coiled inside of his soul and then suddenly snapped apart. Fell quiet so quickly that the silence bled out before him.

Toushirou swallowed, but his throat was still so dry. He didn't want to look up, but there was now a pair of feet at the corner of his sight. And despite the darkness of twilight settling in, he could see all of that white burning in the deepening shadows.

Gin's body shimmered in front of him even as he watched and then shattered. It floated away like a stray wisp of smoke. But strangely Shinsou remained in his grasp. Still warm. Still alive. Still real.

He didn't need to see to know; he could feel it in his very bones. Could taste the deceit in the air. But that was probably all an illusion, too. All a lie. Nothing about this man had ever been the truth. Except for perhaps that damn smile.

He didn't need to see, but Toushirou looked up anyway. He really wished he hadn't. Wished that he didn't see the man before him dressed in white with sash of red.

His eyes were a soft brown, not hidden behind glasses as they'd once been, and his stance was open. Welcoming even. His hands folded behind his back as he waited for Toushirou to rise to his feet, and his face was pleasant, softened by the strand of hair falling across his nose. His voice was warm as he spoke. Warm but completely empty.

"Hello, Hitsugaya-kun. It's been a while."


	24. Tomorrow in a Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gin's glad for it. For oppressive heat and the scent of gardenia on the wind. For the taste of wintergreen in his mouth and the feel of sweat mixed with frost on his skin. (#11: Gardenia.)

There's a garden behind the shouten. It's off to the left side of the house, but there are flowers and what suspiciously look like browning tomato plants, and it reminds Gin vaguely of sitting on the back porch of the fourth division with Retsu-chan and drinking tea. She tends to favor bellflowers more though, even some marigolds or daffodils.

It's August, and the air is heady and humid. It's still hot hours after sunset; it's been an impossibly scorching summer so far, and that looks to continue. Sweat drips down his back even in spirit form, and the ice in the glass to his right has long ago melted. Even the grass is brittle and dry beneath his toes; the flowers are about the only things that haven't wilted yet.

He can hear laughter and the radio or perhaps the television through the open windows, but he can't quite make out the individual voices. Gin can hazard a guess that Hirako-taichou's there since he saw him earlier and maybe one or two of the other Vizard. Ichigo was training in the basement with Yoruichi-san last he knew, but the other Karakura kids are probably around here somewhere. And of course the usual inhabitants of the shop.

He doesn't hear Toushirou though. Doesn't feel him in there either. Who knows where he could be, however? It's still too hot for him to go up on the roof, and he's always preferred the quiet. Maybe down in the basement then or even holed up in their room. The heat makes him grumpier than usual, and he's snapped at just about everyone in the last few weeks. Gin's learned to live with it. It certainly helps that he's a cheery sort by nature. Not to mention that Toushirou is very useful for cooling their room down at night and keeping it that way while the rest of the shop swelters.

More laughter floats his way through the windows, and he successfully identifies Urahara-san's taunts, Hirako-taichou's baying chortles, and what sounds like a very pissed off Hiyori-chan. The resulting noises of violence make Gin very glad that he's out here and not in there. Of course, he was invited; he could join in. But Gin just doesn't feel like it tonight. He isn't in the mood for merriment right now or even family fun times. Since really, that's kinda what this is. Like an extended family gathering almost.

Naturally, Retsu-chan would be the mom here, and Ran is his sister. Izuru's a little brother, he supposes. Maybe a favorite cousin. Tessai-san is the uncle with the shop kids as cousins. Urahara-san is the crazy guy who lives across the street but is always over at their house or maybe he can be an uncle too alongside Hirako-taichou and with Yoruichi-san as an aunt. And Ichigo's their next door neighbor who can be counted on for a favor or perhaps a nephew or something. All his little friends – Hime-chan, Uryuu-kun, and Sado-kun – are the neighborhood kids who come over for sake and cookies.

He's not really sure what Toushirou qualifies as. They're technically not lovers since Toushirou looks like a kid, and admittedly, that disturbs Gin just a bit. But they're way more than friends. They sleep in the same bed – and yes, Toushirou kicks in his sleep and hogs the covers. And they do other things that are mostly outside of the realm of friendship unless one happens to be Ukitake Jyuushiro and Kyouraku Shunsui. But despite the fact that Toushirou already has the white hair, there's no way in hell that Gin's going to grow a beard or wear that retarded-looking hat. The pink haori is debatable; it's a good color for him.

He's still musing on the merits of that and his impromptu family when a board creaks behind him, and he feels a familiar curl of icy reiatsu. Toushirou would rather run himself through than ever admit it, but he loathes being outside when it's hot, and not even the temptation of watermelons could bring him out here during the afternoon hours. This is probably the first time he's come out all day, but the night air is still steaming enough that Gin knows he has to be miserable.

Nonetheless, he settles in beside Gin and lets his legs dangle over the edge of the porch, knees brushing Gin's own. He's stripped down as far as his own sense of propriety allows, but moisture trickles down his forehead to the side of his face and slides down his neck into his collar. His hair has long ago lost its usual spikes, and his yukata sticks to him in several unpleasant places. But even if Toushirou went around starkers, it wouldn't be enough to cool him down, and Gin'd bet that his inner world has thawed to little more than puddles if his outward state is anything to go by. His expression though… that one's the real kicker.

"What are you smiling about?" Toushirou asks him almost accusingly before Gin even realizes that he is in fact grinning.

Sure, it's his default expression. But certain smiles mean more than others, and Toushirou can easily tell the difference unlike most people. Gin shares his thoughts if only because he finds it funny and Toushirou needs a distraction from the heat that's already plastered his hair to his head in the few minutes he's been out here.

"Ukitake is _not_ my father" is the first thing Toushirou says in response to that.

Which only makes Gin snort.

If Jyuu-san could, he'd adopt Toushirou – and probably half the inhabitants of the Urahara Shouten and his division at large – and bundle him up to take home. And it's sort of telling that Toushirou brings him up when Gin hadn't even mentioned him in the first place. He is the dad-type though, but that'd have him attached to Retsu-chan, which would make Stark very sad indeed. Maybe Jyuu-san can be the granddad instead; Shunsui can be the grandmother.

That one even earns a laugh, which Gin marks down as a win. Toushirou doesn't do that often in the best of times, and add the heat in with the lingering tension as they continuously wait for the other shoe to drop, and that's just a recipe for a cranky dragon ready to skewer anyone who even looks at him weird. It certainly doesn't help that his drowned puppy look attracts a lot of attention or that the less restrained members of their little family insist on commenting about it.

He glances at Gin then, and one eyebrow lifts like he knows exactly what Gin's thinking. But another laugh drifts to them on a breeze that hadn't even been there before, and it's quickly forgotten. Gin moves in before it can be remembered.

Toushirou tastes like mint. His lips are dry and chapped, his mouth is hot, and his hair tickles Gin's cheek. His touch is almost clammy against Gin's skin, and his fingers are callused on his neck.

But all Gin can taste is mint and the faint hint of salt.

It's still too hot for this, so he keeps it brief. And they just sit side by side and try to make out the stars in a sky that's too bright from the lights of the city. They talk about everything and nothing and all that's in between. A few people peek out of the backdoor, but nobody joins them, and he hears the Vizard and Ichigo go home sometime later.

But he and Toushirou don't venture back inside. Not all night. Not until dawn when he wakes with a stiff back from sleeping on the wooden porch and Toushirou's pointy chin on his shoulder.

And when they come back outside the next evening and do exactly the same thing, Gin's glad for it. For oppressive heat and the stars and city lights above them. For the scent of gardenia on the wind and the taste of wintergreen in his mouth and the feel of sweat mixed with frost on his skin. If the Espada or the Shinigami or even Aizen himself all show up tomorrow or the next week or minutes from now. If he dies or Toushirou does or all of them do, he'll still have this.

This moment. This memory. This chance.

This life.

And it'll always be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jyuusan (or juusan) means thirteen in Japanese. It's a play on Ukitake's name and division.
> 
> Set directly before part 13, _Under the Flood_.


	25. Propane Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When every breath is a struggle and every night is full of horrors, Toushirou just doesn't know what to do with himself. (#16: Invincible/Unrivaled.)

Toushirou blacks out to the sight of Hinamori bleeding inches away from him and the sound of Aizen's smug voice. He has a second to feel the kiss of a healing kidoh, but his mind is too far gone by then for it to register. He wakes later with a wildly beating heart and sucking in air like a drowning man. Toushirou doesn't have the energy to throw himself up in his hospital bed, so all he can do is shake like a leaf as Unohana orders him to take deep breaths.

He hurts all over. His chest. His ribs. His head right behind his eyes. His arms and legs straight down to his toes.

His mouth is dry and his voice hoarse as he demands to know what happened, but Unohana can't quite meet his gaze. Toushirou has a moment to panic, to feel his heart claw its way up his throat before she tells him that Hinamori survived but is comatose. And his head reels and throbs both throughout the rest of the story.

Kuchiki Rukia. The ryoka are heroes. Aizen's a traitor. So is Tousen. So is Ichimaru.

She squeezes his hand so hard as she tells him that he loses feeling, and his eyes burn when he swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. He can't hear over the roaring in his ears. He can't speak. He can't breathe.

The first night, Toushirou has a lot of time to think as he lays there in the dark. If his eyes are red in the morning, Unohana says nothing. She just brushes his hair from his face after she helps him sit up.

Toushirou has visitors; he honestly wishes he didn't.

Ukitake comes to see him and stays for hours. Kyouraku brings candy. Kira stares blankly at the wall as he apologizes before stumbling out. Matsumoto says little but wipes her eyes a lot. But there's no flash of silvery hair disappearing from his doorway when he wake up the following morning. There's no familiar taste of reiatsu to the air that lets him know someone slept in the chair by his bed.

He pretends that doesn't hurt all the worse.

Toushirou curls up on his side the second night with his back to the door. He dreams of blood and Hinamori crumbled on the floor, but he comes to when Unohana shakes him awake. His limbs are tangled in his sheets, and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. His throat is raw from screaming.

Unohana finally lets him go the next morning, but her forehead is pinched with concern, and he spends the day getting his division in some semblance of order. It's after midnight by the time he makes it home, and his house is silent and far too still. He crawls into bed fully clothed and completely exhausted but only stares at the ceiling.

There's no one to wake him up this time, and his mouth has a metallic taste all the next day from biting his tongue.

Weeks pass. The circles under his eyes grow until Matsumoto ambushes him with concealer. Hyourinmaru coils in his soul but barely speaks to him; he's too busy mourning a future that won't happen. And most of Toushirou's nights are spent doing paperwork in his office or anything else that keeps him from having to go home. But images start to flash behind his eyes even when he's awake.

Hinamori with tears pouring down her face. Hyourinmaru's roars. The world as he falls in slow motion. Aizen's smug smile. Slitted eyes that glance at him and then look away.

Toushirou suffocates in Seireitei. He can't stand how Unohana looks at him in meetings. Can't stomach the way Ukitake and Kyouraku handle him so gently. Can't take how his own division acts like he'll explode in a wave of ice at any moment. Matsumoto is the only normal one of the lot, and he goes on assignment to the living world if only to get away from it all. The roof of Inoue's building is a refuge that finally lets him take a deep breath, but even that doesn't last.

Inoue's taken and then rescued by her nakama. He goes to see her to apologize for not being there but never makes it. He's just not a match for the first Espada, and he almost swears the man looks at him mournfully before he's dragged before Aizen on his tall throne. It's all he can do to be held back, but somehow, he manages not to sweat from sheer fury and fear both. It's hard to admit, but he's afraid in that instant. They only just got Inoue back, but some part of him honestly doesn't think they'll come for him. He's done little to endear himself to the Karakura gang or even his fellow captains in the last few months.

Toushirou could take outright torture, but that's not Aizen's style. Instead, he just throws Toushirou in a room with Hollows, Arrancar, and possibly an Espada or two but no sword and with his reiatsu half-bound. It's easy to lose track of the fight and the extent of his injuries and reality itself.

Dodge. Duck. Counter. Leg sweep. Claws to his side. A jab in return. Punch. Kick. Stumble. Fire in his veins. Copper on his lips. A Hollow's scream. And blood, blood, blood. Pain. Darkness.

He wakes to what has to be a dream. To being carried across the white sands of Hueco Mundo. His head's tucked into a bony shoulder, and he feels a trickle down his side with every step. Time is more like a suggestion and comes in dollops. He remembers the black sky. Then the sensation of movement between worlds. Urahara's shop. His injuries knitting together. A hand in his. Silvery hair that tickles his cheek as a kiss is pressed to his forehead.

Toushirou opens his eyes then and stares.

"Ichimaru?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set right before part 1, _Anywhere But Home_.


	26. Far to Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toushirou was doing his best to bite his tongue. To keep his draconic temper and nature in check and not go for the throat. (#12: In a Good Mood.)

Kuchiki's hands were bandaged, and her bangs were crusted with blood as they hung down in her delicate face. Her fingers twisted around her ragged sleeve, but she was still intact enough not to resemble the survivor of some horrible massacre. At least not too much.

Abarai, however, was in slightly worse shape. The cut on his face had been healed by Tessai-san, but his eyes still held a glassy gleam. His shihakushou was a lost cause though, and the robes given to him did little to cover the wrappings around his chest that were already turning from white to a faint pink.

_Gin brought them both back bleeding. Kuchiki was awake but bound by a spell to keep her still and quiet, but she glared daggers at Gin as he carried both she and Abarai in. Abarai though was completely out of it, and Toushirou suspected it was due to the head wound. Tricky things those were; he'd gotten enough in the past and seen enough of his division go down with barely a tap to know._

_Kurosaki showed up a few minutes later, but he was in much better shape and had only earned a few stray scratches for his efforts. He was quick to tell Toushirou what had happened after they'd all separated. Apparently, Kuchiki and Abarai had been riding to the rescue, only to need rescuing themselves. And from Gin no less._

_Typical. Such was the way of their fucked up lives._

As they sat in front of him now, Kuchiki with shaky hands and Abarai with a pained grimace, both looked at Toushirou like they'd seen a ghost. Understandable really. He'd been missing for nearly half a year. The last confirmed sighting of him was by Ukitake, and Toushirou had been careful to stay concealed after that.

Only now, he was there. Before them like a freak snowstorm in the middle of June. Real and frosty and very draconic as he studied them over the table and his teacup. His own injuries were minor things. Nothing that a little trickle of reiatsu and kidoh or two couldn't handle. Which was about the only good thing from this whole fiasco.

Some days, Toushirou honestly wondered which god he'd pissed off. That might sound contrite and just a tad bit sacrilegious, but really, it was the only explanation for the path his life had taken. Nothing could ever be simple. Or easy. Or anything less than moderately difficult.

Things had been going so well, too. Which should've been Toushirou's first clue that fate was about to blindside him, knock him to ground, and then search through his pockets. That the universe was about to upend his careful plans and then stomp up and down on the remains.

_Another Shinigami battle was in the process of spilling over to the living world. Yet another enemy in Soul Society's endless list of them. Toushirou wasn't thrilled to say the least, but he couldn't live with himself if he just hid in the shop. He found Inoue in the street in front of her apartment, ready to head for the reiatsu they both sensed in the distance, but he was hardly about to let her go off alone and risk her being injured or worse. She was something of a friend and their best healer, but her offensive abilities sucked, and that was the nicest thing Toushirou could say about it._

_Gin, in the meantime, went to search for Kurosaki's father and sisters. Not to mention the other people in town who could sense and be sensed in return but wouldn't be strong enough to fight back. Unfortunately for him, Kuchiki and Abarai seemed to have a similar idea. Either that or it was supremely poor timing. They were both already on the ground by the time Gin arrived, and Toushirou didn't doubt that they would've died otherwise._

_Not that Kuchiki and Abarai were the least bit appreciative of that fact. The girl immediately went on the offensive as soon as she was healed and laid eyes on Gin again. As if she'd all too quickly forgotten who'd just kept her and her nakama alive and kicking._

_" **You!** " she all but spat in Gin's face as their eyes met. "What're you doing here!"_

And really, where had all that politeness gone? Only minutes before, when it'd just been Toushirou with them, they'd still called him captain and had averted their eyes. Now, they felt like it was perfectly acceptable to jump in, make accusations, and just be insufferable in general.

It could be worse though, Toushirou supposed. It could've been Kuchiki the elder. The captain. The extremely overprotective older brother who disliked Gin on principle. Kuchiki the younger and Abarai were bad enough. Having to fight Senbonzakura in bankai and not kill her master in the process would've been a nightmare of epic proportions.

Toushirou nearly shuddered at the thought. Dealing with the little sister was bad enough. It was annoying that they'd barged back into Karakura, dragging their problems with them, but now, they were overtaking the refuge of the Urahara Shouten. The place Toushirou was trying very hard not to call home even in the safety of his own head.

_"You've been keeping a traitor in your basement!" Kuchiki Rukia practically shouted at the room in general and Urahara-san in particular._

_Though honestly, that accusation was directed at everyone. Yoruichi-san. Tessai-san. Toushirou himself. Even more at Kurosaki as he sat scowling in the corner. The only one not accused was Gin himself, but then, he was supposedly the cause of the problem in the first place._

_"Technically," Urahara jumped in, "Gin-kun doesn't live in the basement. You're making it sound like I'm a bad host."_

_Abarai spluttered, and the tea he'd just sipped turned into a very fine mist in front of him. Toushirou had a second to recall all those weeks the redhead had been a freeloader here, but Kuchiki interrupted then._

_"He isn't a guest!" she snapped. "He's a traitor. A monster. A-"_

_"A Hollow," Kurosaki cut in, but his voice wasn't hot and angry. That would've been preferable though to the matter-of-fact tone. "A part Hollow, really. Part Hollow, part Shinigami."_

_Kurosaki didn't need to explain further. The implication was there for everyone to see._

_Urahara's face was carefully blank, but his eyes were very, very dangerous. Yoruichi-san was still beside him, but Toushirou didn't doubt that her claws would be unsheathed in cat form. Even Tessai-san's posture was disapproving, and he'd paused halfway between pouring everyone more tea. Toushirou himself felt his hands curl into fists, but Gin's fingers were strong on his thigh and kept him firmly in place._

_Kuchiki sat there for a moment. Her eyes were wide. Huge in her slender face and bluer than Toushirou had ever seen._

_"Ichigo…" she breathed. "You're nothing like him. You're not! He can't be trusted. He needs to be locked up. He needs to be punished."_

_"Turn him in and I'll never forgive you," Kurosaki stated plainly and right to her face._

_There was a pause. As if the entire room was suddenly holding its breath._

_The girl was silent. Deathly so. She just gaped at Kurosaki with complete and utter betrayal._

Kuchiki was still quiet, but it wasn't the deferent or healing silence from earlier. It was almost sullen now. Worse than the scolded kid who'd gotten caught nicking sweets before dinner. More like the scorned wife who'd found her husband in bed with another woman and had then been told he wanted a divorce.

Only not half that pleasant.

But as much as she tried to persuade them, nobody would budge. Part of that – the solidarity – was heartening, and the flicker in Gin's reiatsu as it kissed his was too telling. Another part, however, was damning.

Kuchiki knew. Knew Gin was here. Knew him as only a traitor.

Abarai could probably be convinced. His experience with Gin was minimal at best. But Kuchiki was the hard one. They couldn't shut her up without hurting her; Toushirou didn't _want_ to hurt her. He'd never approved of Soifon's methods, and he didn't think Kurosaki would ever allow it. But for all that she was probably the weakest person in the room, Kuchiki was suddenly the most dangerous. She could get them killed. All she had to do was tell her brother and that would be it.

For all of them.

_"Taichou," Kuchiki began then, and she sounded like she was trying very hard not to pull her hair out in sheer frustration. "This man is a traitor. He's an enemy of Soul Society. He's directly responsible for the murder of Chamber 46 and the gods only know what other crimes. He's a liar. A fraud."_

_"And a bastard," Abarai put in. He tilted his head as they glowered at him. "What?"_

_Kuchiki sighed then and turned back. "He can't be trusted; he'll betray you in the end."_

_Toushirou bristled as she said all this like Gin wasn't even there, and as good a mask as Gin could give, he could feel the fingers that were gripping his thigh tremble. Hyourinmaru rattled in his sheath at his side, and he could feel Shinsou stirring, too. Kuchiki didn't seem to realize that she was just digging herself deeper. Toushirou didn't want to hurt her, but that didn't mean he wouldn't._

_"He'll knife you in back as soon as he has a good opportunity," Kuchiki said flatly. "He's done it before; he'll do it again. He-"_

_"He also just saved your lives," Kurosaki pointed out then. "I know that I didn't get there in enough time. All Ichimaru had to do was wait a few minutes, and they would've gotten you. No one would've ever even known he was there either. But he helped out, and now, you're just gonna pretend that didn't happen."_

Teacups clinked together as Tessai-san set them on the tray and carried everything away. Urahara had pulled Kurosaki off to the side, ostensibly for a private discussion, and Gin wisely held back as everyone stood. Kuchiki didn't look at anyone, and Abarai was rubbing his good arm over the side of his face in an almost sheepish manner.

Toushirou was doing his best to bite his tongue. To keep his draconic temper and nature in check and not go for the throat. Hyourinmaru still wasn't completely satisfied, and neither was Toushirou to be honest, but this was the best he was going to get.

It was settled. It was decided, but Toushirou still felt a twinge uneasy. He thought that Kuchiki and Abarai would keep their word, but there was always the chance they wouldn't, and he knew that he wouldn't sleep well tonight. He wouldn't be sleeping well for a long time.

_She looked at Kurosaki then, but his expression was hard. Out of everyone, Kurosaki was her friend, her comrade, her nakama. He'd nearly died for her multiple times. But Gin had been living in Karakura for the last several months – a time that Kuchiki had been mostly absent; he and Kurosaki sparred almost every day now. He wasn't about to let Soul Society drag Gin away for making a bad decision that he'd later taken back._

_"He isn't with Aizen anyone," Kurosaki told them very frankly. "Hasn't been for a while. He's been here. Helping us the whole time." His voice was softer now. "You know what Soul Society wanted to do to you. Imagine what they'll do to him."_

_Abarai shifted and looked away with something a lot like guilt, and Kuchiki flinched. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she took a deep breath. But she lifted her chin a minute later, defiant and far too much like her brother._

_Toushirou had finally had enough though. The air was cool against his skin and was rapidly dropping in temperature the more time went by. Hyourinmaru was coiling inside of him, ready to strike, ready to defend what was his from those who'd steal it from him._

_"I don't care who the hell your brother is," Toushirou ground out then, and the icy chill went glacial. "You don't want me as your enemy."_

_He didn't reach for his blade. He didn't need to. Kuchiki's eyes went there on her own. However, the fingers on his thigh gave a sudden and very tight squeeze, and Toushirou glanced to the side._

_"Toushirou," Gin inserted sharply. "That's enough."_

_He sounded tired. Weary and almost defeated. And Toushirou didn't know what to do. What to think. Even less so as Gin turned to the two interlopers and lowered his head in something like a bow._

_"I'm sorry," he stated in something slightly above a whisper, but it still managed to carry through the entire room. "Sorrier than ya'll ever know. I know I can't fix this, but I would if I could."_

_Silence again. Strained. Fragile. Weighing. Kuchiki let it linger before starting to open her mouth, but Abarai put a hand on her elbow._

_"Rukia… Don't," he said, and it was almost a command. "Just don't."_

_She glared at him, but Abarai gave a single shake of his head. They stared at each other in quiet conversation that only made the tension in the room skyrocket the more it went on, and Toushirou nearly rose to his feet despite Gin's grip._

_But then, finally, Kuchiki dropped her eyes. She didn't look up again._

Toushirou followed both of them to the door. The Shinigami were elsewhere in the city, cleaning up from the recent fight, and Yoruichi-san was escorting them back to Soul Society personally. The fact that she'd stick around for a few days to make sure they kept their mouths shut went unsaid. Abarai was limping slightly, and Kuchiki's fingers kept shaking, but not even Kurosaki was eager for them to stick around long enough for Inoue to arrive.

The gate appeared seconds after Yoruichi-san summoned it, but she paused to wait for her charges who were taking their merry sweet time. Kuchiki in particular seemed to be dragging. Almost as if she hoped to catch Kurosaki alone. Or maybe to speak to them without Gin around.

Well, she wasn't getting any of that, so she'd better hurry along. A fact she seemed to finally accept as Toushirou drew up beside her and their eyes met.

"I think we understand where we all stand now," Toushirou murmured to her then, quietly so that only she heard.

"Yes, taichou," Kuchiki replied equally soft and didn't look at anyone. "I think we do."


	27. Scars & Souvenirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with all things in Hitsugaya Toushirou's life, even the simplest tasks became undertakings of massive proportions. (#23: Candy.)

As with all things in Hitsugaya Toushirou's life, even the simplest tasks became undertakings of massive proportions. Between Matsumoto, his other subordinates, and his general lack of free time, he was hard pressed to get away for even five minutes. That was of course except for the one day a week when his paperwork _mysteriously_ completed itself and even managed to turn itself in – on time, no less! Still, that didn't leave him much opportunity for sleep, much less anything else.

But really, it shouldn't be this difficult to buy a thank you gift.

Attempt number one. Lucky giant goldfish. Nice and ambiguous without any special meaning. Only lucky didn't equal resistance to cold and as such the fish didn't survive a particularly grueling afternoon where Toushirou iced over his office and yelled himself hoarse at his fourth-seat.

Attempt number two. Expensive wine, strawberry flavored. Kept in his drawer. Found by Matsumoto that night. Shared with Kyouraku-taichou and possibly the entirety of the eleventh division.

Attempt number three. Box of chocolates. Its fate didn't even deserve a mention. Besides, he now had a lingering mark above his eyebrow he was fairly certain would scar.

The shopkeeper was used to seeing him by now. The old woman just glanced up from her book as he trudged into her store, blinked at his presence for a second, and went back to reading. Toushirou paid her no mind as he walked by the aisles holding the small aquarium, the candy display, and the wine racks. The shop was almost completely empty as he wandered around. In fact, the only other customer was Kuchiki from the thirteenth, but Toushirou thoroughly ignored her as he walked by.

She didn't return the favor, shooting him odd looks as she browsed nearby, and Toushirou had the vague recollection that her brother's birthday was next week. Which meant that he should probably send a well-wish of some kind as befitting a fellow captain. But that was one of the few duties that Matsumoto not only performed but did so happily, so it was probably better if he left it in her capable hands. She undoubtedly had a much better idea what to buy anyway.

Only sheer embarrassment – and admittedly anger over the wine incident – kept him from begging her help in this. That and the fact that he knew she couldn't keep her damn mouth shut to save her life except in very limited circumstances. This wasn't one of them, and half of Seireitei would know that he'd gone gift-shopping for Ichimaru Gin within an hour.

Toushirou sighed then, stepping around a display full of fresh cut flowers, before his eyes riveted on something the next aisle over. He felt his feet walk forward without permission, and he came to a stop just a few inches away. Toushirou studied it for a moment, nodded, and snatched it from the shelf as though it would suddenly decide to up and run off all on its own.

Knowing his luck, there was a good chance it would.

Kuchiki was watching him beneath her bangs as he marched by her and up to the counter, and the only good thing about this whole fiasco was that she had no clue who he was shopping for. First because it would lead to a lot of awkward explanation on Toushirou's part, and second because neither Kuchiki sibling was known for their fondness for Ichimaru. Though admittedly, Toushirou wasn't exactly certain why. It was most likely better if he didn't ask.

He could still feel her eyes burning into his back as the shopkeeper boxed up his gift and tied the ribbon in place. Toushirou was thankfully gone from the store before Kuchiki could dredge up enough courage to come over, and he made double-time through the streets just in case other curious Shinigami decided to question him.

A few flashsteps got him to the third division within minutes, but it was unexpectedly deserted as he made his way to Ichimaru's office. Kira wasn't even at his desk, and Toushirou hesitated for a minute, reaching out to make sure Ichimaru was there, before he knocked.

It was tricky sliding the door open and trying to hold his gift at the same time, but Toushirou managed it before Ichimaru could do more than rise from his seat and move to stand in front of his desk. The older man seemed genuinely surprised to see him as Toushirou marched over.

"Here," Toushirou said and practically shoved the box in his hands before he could even get in a greeting edgewise.

Ichimaru fumbled for a second before pulling it close to his chest. He looked down then, staring at Toushirou behind those slitted eyes.

"What's this fer?"

"You know," Toushirou bit out, gaze fixed over Ichimaru's shoulder to the window behind. He could see most of the third out in the training field with Kira and wondered if Ichimaru was supposed to be out there with them.

If he was, the other captain didn't seem to be in any hurry to get there. Instead, he just tilted his head to the side and looked at Toushirou for a moment longer before turning to the box he still held. His long fingers made deft work of the red ribbon, and Toushirou watched it flutter to the floor in place of seeing Ichimaru take off the lid, but that didn't keep him from hearing the odd like exhale Ichimaru made as he glanced inside.

"It's a plant," the older man said with a confused tone.

"Peace lily," Toushirou corrected.

Ichimaru just looked at him. Toushirou fought not to shift from foot to foot like a naughty kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Why-" Ichimaru started to ask, but he was cut off.

"The goldfish died," Toushirou stated curtly. As if that answered everything.

Ichimaru opened his mouth and then promptly closed it. He honestly looked at a loss for words.

"The goldfish… What?" he finally managed, and it came out almost like a squawk.

"It died," Toushirou repeated much slower this time. "Matsumoto drank the wine, and the chocolate…" He shook his head.

Ichimaru made a choking sound, even as his eyebrows shot up near to his hairline. He glanced from Toushirou to the plant and back.

"So a peace lily?"

Only it was more a question than a statement.

Toushirou rubbed a hand over his face hoping it wasn't really as hot as it felt. It didn't help that Ichimaru had just shifted forward then or that they were standing so close together now that the edges of their haori kissed.

"Sure." Toushirou just shrugged and took a hasty step back. "Hope you like it," he threw over his shoulder as he moved for the door, but he could feel Ichimaru still staring at him.

"I… er… do," Ichimaru called after him, a mixture of puzzled, amazed, and more than a bit curious. "Thanks."

Toushirou paused for a second by the door and gave a nod, but he didn't turn back around. It was the only way Ichimaru wouldn't see the red oh-so-clearly staining his cheeks. Nevertheless, Toushirou had straight shoulders and a head held high as he exited the third on the way back to his office.

Mission accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after parts 7, _Free Fall_ , and 8, _Future Proof_.


	28. Careless Whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was awkward. He'd just nearly ravished this man without permission and hadn't even realized until almost too late. (#14: Radio-Cassette Player.)

This was awkward.

It wasn't that they'd never been alone before because they had. Often. All the time. When they walked around Karakura at night and when they sparred and when the chaos of the shop was just too much and they needed a break. But it was different this time.

It'd never been just the pair of them in the shop. There'd always been someone else there, lurking in the background. Always someone downstairs training. Or in the kitchen making a snack. Or minding the store itself. Or even just lounging around.

There was always somebody else.

Except now, there wasn't.

Everyone else was gone. Was not there. Urahara and Tessai-san were gone overnight to pick-up a package too big to deliver, the shop kids with them. Yoruichi-san was off slinking around in her cat form. Kurosaki and Sado had gone to do homework. Ishida hadn't even stopped by today. Stark was with Inoue and Nel to see a movie, and the Vizard were all off in their warehouse, doing whatever it was they did there.

Only he and Gin were left. It was just the two of them. Alone but together. Just them. Here. Without anyone else.

Toushirou stared at the book in front of him, but the words made no sense. Instead, all he could think about was the sound of Gin's humming, and Toushirou felt his eyes straying that direction of their own accord, finding the older man as he lay on his stomach with his feet crossed behind him. Water still clung to his hair from his recent shower, and Toushirou couldn't help but watch as it curled its way around Gin's neck to glide down his chest and disappear into his sleeping robe.

For some reason, Toushirou's mouth was unexpectedly dry. He wasn't entirely sure why.

He forced his eyes to his book and scooted further back until he touched the wall behind him, but the distance wasn't nearly enough. He could still smell the clean scent of their recently laundered sheets mixed with the soap Gin had used. Crisp and fresh and maybe a tad bit too noticeable as his attention wandered back to the man currently on the futon in front of him, and he watched as Gin turned a page in his manga as though he didn't even notice that he was being stared at. In fact, he seemed completely oblivious as he hummed in time to the music drifting in from under the door, but somehow, it came out more like a seductive purr that made something in Toushirou's stomach flutter. Though admittedly, something a bit lower down fluttered, too.

Toushirou jerked his head down until it was nearly buried in his book, but somehow, his eyes crept back up without his permission. Crawled over the print to the edge of the page. Across the floor and over the futon. Right to up Gin's feet as they swayed in time with the radio. As they moved this way and that and made the thin material of his sleeping robe kiss its way down his legs until Toushirou could only see pale, pale skin.

That more than anything made this situation a thousand times worse, and trying not to think about it, only made him think about it more. It was like the Huge Hollow in the room that he was trying desperately to pretend wasn't there even as it gnawed at his toes.

It just wasn't working.

Toushirou was hyperaware of everything. Of the neglected book in his hands. The wall pressed against his back. The slide of cloth against cloth as Gin lounged on their bed. The dim light in their room as time passed and night deepened. The way his fingers drummed on the floor as he watched Gin look at the pages in his manga. How Gin sucked on his lip in thought and his tongue would poke out every few minutes.

Toushirou felt himself swallow. He licked his lips. His mouth was still dry, throat almost scratchy. But he felt the beginnings of sweat forming at his back and brow. He was hot then. So hot. Too hot. The room was so stifling it almost made him dizzy. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think, and he threw his book down and was on his feet before he could even begin to stop himself.

Gin's head jerked up from his manga then, and his expression made something in Toushirou go cold even as something else went white hot. His eyes were almost too blue but not from surprise. Not from the unexpected way Toushirou stood there with his blood burning and his expression looking far too adult.

That bastard.

Gin sat up even as Toushirou glared at him. But it wasn't smugness to his face. It wasn't even seduction. More thoughtful. Assessing. As though Toushirou had spent so much energy trying not to stare that he hadn't noticed Gin having the exact same problem. That he hadn't seen the slight flush to Gin's face or the fact that his tongue licking his lips wasn't completely unintentional. He hadn't even noticed the husky catch to Gin's breathing or the fact that his eyes were more than their usual slits. That his smile was gone to be replaced by something Toushirou couldn't begin to read.

Toushirou swallowed again and felt his anger fade away in a puff of smoke to be replaced by something else entirely, and he could only watch as Gin slowly rose to his feet. Sweat still clung to his back, and it only seemed to increase as Gin took a step forward.

It wasn't intentional, but Toushirou met him halfway, moving so quickly that Gin actually seemed startled. Even more so when Toushirou's hands went for the collar of his sleeping robe, pulling him down a bit too forcefully and all but ramming their faces together. Luckily, their teeth didn't clink, but it was a near thing. Gin's mouth was hot on his and strangely slow to kiss back. He eventually did, but it wasn't like normal. Wasn't like it usually was.

Something was odd, but Toushirou wasn't certain what. Wasn't sure of anything but the press of a body against him and the sudden heat of their room. The tingle that shot down his spine and fluttered over into his belly until it pooled lower still, and then, it became something sharp and aching and made him press even closer.

Gin made a sound in the back of his throat that Toushirou couldn't identify, but he was rather beyond caring. His hands were still on Gin's collar, but Toushirou's fingers had tangled in the ends of his silvery hair somewhere along the way. Pulling him down. Forcing him closer. Until it was hard to tell if there was even space still left between them. Until the only thought left in Toushirou's brain was the idea that there was too much clothing and too much standing and a bed right behind him begging their attention. Begging him to bring Gin down with him and…

The unexpected scrape of teeth against his lip then was like a bucket of cold water, and Toushirou nearly jumped out of his admittedly flushed skin in shock. He jerked back to see Gin looking at him with just as much surprise, and both of them were even more shocked when Toushirou drew back to discover the faint dotting of red on hand as he swiped it over his mouth.

Gin's eyes were too wide and too blue as they gazed at him. "Sorry," he mumbled. "'m sorry."

His voice was strangely shaky, and his hold felt off as he shifted away. It was too loose for one. Too tentative in a way they'd never been before. Too hesitant like he wasn't quite sure what to do. Too reluctant.

Toushirou drew back farther. He could feel Gin's fingers flexing on the bare skin of his arm, but they didn't bring him closer again, and the two of them just looked at each other uncertainly.

The air wasn't just hot; it was heavy. Tense in a way that it shouldn't be. Strained at the edges and threatening to cave in.

Awkward.

They'd never been this awkward before. Not even when they'd both still been captains and Toushirou unwilling to admit what was between them. Not even during those first few weeks here at the shop when they shared a bed and nothing else. Not even all those times they first tried to be alone without anyone else leering down their necks.

And now, it was like they were strangers expected to perform before an audience. Except there wasn't one. It was just the pair of them. Toushirou going from burning hot to uncomfortable. And Gin still as death.

Toushirou needed to say something. Anything. And his brain settled for the first thing it thought of.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I just… I've never," Toushirou began. "Not with anyone." He paused at the tightening of Gin's fingers and the scrape of his nails.

"I have," the man said softly, and there was something in his face, something very pained and almost fearful. "It… it was years ago."

Toushirou's heart gave a painful jolt. He felt it skip another beat as he just replayed the last few minutes in his head and came to a conclusion he didn't like at all. Gin had been more nervous than seductive, and ice shot through his veins where fire had just so recently been.

"I'm sorry," Toushirou said with something bordering on horror, but he wasn't completely sure what he was apologizing for this time. For the past. For the present. For not noticing sooner that he'd definitely been the more eager party.

Gin looked away. "S'not yer fault."

The silence then was even worse than before, and Toushirou's bubble of desire popped completely to be replaced by dismay. He'd just nearly ravished this man without permission and hadn't even realized until almost too late. And if that wasn't both humiliating and horrifying, he didn't know what was.

"I'm not…" Toushirou started to say but thought the better of it. "We don't have to do anything. Do… _this_." He waved a hand between them as Gin glanced back his direction. "I just thought that everyone was gone, and it was just us. That we probably wouldn't have an opportunity like this again, and…" he trailed off uncomfortably.

"It's alright," Gin said after a moment, and his tone was low and very soft. "S'not like you knew."

Toushirou felt his face flush, but it was from embarrassment this time.

"I mean… I thought…" Toushirou had never considered himself a stuttering schoolboy until that moment, and he couldn't help but cringe at how utterly retarded he sounded.

Gin wasn't doing much better.

"I think it's… I do, but… Not right now," the older man finally decided, and thankfully, he was relieved and not angry.

It was like an incredible weight Toushirou hadn't even noticed suddenly lifted from his shoulders. He let out a breath all in a rush and hadn't realized before he'd been holding it.

"Yeah," Toushirou agreed faintly. "The timing is…" He struggled for the right word.

"Off," Gin supplied. "The timing's off."

He smiled then, lighter and easier than the one he usually wore, but Toushirou didn't really have time to see it as the older man abruptly leaned forward.

Gin tasted like candy and autumn apples, and his breath was gentle on Toushirou's face. He could hear the din of the radio Inoue had left on in the background, but it was so faint now he couldn't even make out the song. Gin's hands trembled faintly as they cupped his face, and Toushirou's clothes stuck to the sweaty spots along his spine.

But maybe it was okay because Gin looked every bit as relieved as Toushirou felt, and that more than anything made his heart achieve a normal rhythm. Made him feel like he'd been forgiven for every sin he'd unwittingly committed.

He fought the urge to laugh from sheer relief as they pulled apart and one of Gin's fingers danced along the skin of his cheek.

"It's gettin' late," Gin murmured against his mouth.

"Yeah," he agreed, almost unhappily. More so as Gin tilted his head back.

"They'll be back soon."

"Unfortunately."

"We should go ta bed."

Toushirou let out a fierce sigh. But it wasn't an argument.

The futon was just behind him, but where it'd been so appealing before, it wasn't now. Instead, it seemed to taunt him with its fresh sheets and memories of Gin as he lounged on his stomach.

Toushirou scowled before he could stop himself. Gin gave a snort.

"Go ta sleep," he said, and it was more like a command as he cast Toushirou an appraising look. He had an air of sudden wickedness as he shifted his weight ever-so-slightly to the balls of his feet.

Toushirou had a second to puzzle at that and narrow his eyes before it morphed into a smirk. And before he could do anything, a hand found his chest and unceremoniously shoved him backwards. He hit their futon with a muffled thump and lay there dazed.

Above him, Gin made a sound that was all too much like laughter.


	29. Falling In Reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toushirou wasn't dead. He wasn't. Not when Gin could still feel that hint of ice and dragon curling inside of him in a thin, red ribbon that was rimmed with frost. (#9: Dash.)

And then, he woke up.

Gin wasn't quite sure he'd ever been asleep. Knocked out. Whatever. But it was like opening his eyes to suddenly be somewhere he hadn't been earlier. Not so much shunpo as the magic of dreaming. Or maybe the incessant pull of a tie that he refused to let be broken.

He'd been heading back towards the shouten and then suddenly flying away from it. Going so fast that colors were a blur and sound was a suggestion. Moving to where he'd just felt Toushirou's reiatsu rise, flicker, and disappear. Die.

But not die. Toushirou wasn't dead. He wasn't. He couldn't be.

Certainly not when Gin could still feel him. Still had that hint of ice and dragon curling inside of him and trailing away in a thin, red ribbon that was rimmed with frost. It went deeper into the city. Around tall buildings that scrapped the sunset-tinted sky and through valleys of steel and concrete.

Gin followed like a starving man did breadcrumbs in the woods. So narrowed on that line, so focused that he could've walked into the apocalypse and not noticed it.

Which was basically what he did.

He slid through the surrounding barrier thoughtlessly and was instantly bombarded with the feel of a dozen or more absurdly strong spirits bearing down on him. Some Shinigami. Others Arrancar. A handful of Vizard. A few who were still technically teenagers. All of them whirling together in a mish-mash maelstrom of violence and victory and venom. Of fighting and fury and finality.

This was it. This is what Retsu-san and Yoruichi-san and even Urahara had all warned him about. The Shinigami's grand plan. Their final hoorah or the great path to glory. The battle to end all battles and everything dramatic they would think to name it or tack on.

Gin didn't give a flying fart in space. Because underneath it all – Yamamoto's blaze, Jyuu-san's storm, Kenpachi's yellow cloud of chaos – he could still feel that pull. That tug. That icy breath begging him to come closer.

And any thoughts of battle. Of being seen by the Shinigami and their allies or their enemies flew from his head to take a plunge in the nearby river and subsequently drowned. He didn't care who the hell saw what.

Gin just took a breath and plunged on. Plunged into the whirlwind.

He saw Ichigo first; it was hard to miss him. A streak of black and orange that danced and whirled through the thick of things like a knife caught in a hurricane. Blasting from one edge of the battlefield to the next in seconds and taking down enemies like they stood still.

Izuru and Rangiku were next, fighting together against the hordes. Lost from sight before he could even spare a thought to help them.

Then, Urahara-san. Moving to assist Kyouraku from what looked like half the Espada and their assorted minions. A streak soon joined them in the form of Yoruichi-san, followed by Sado-kun, Hachi, and Lisa-chan.

Nel was nearby, not a toddler but a fully-grown woman, who was hacking at Barragan and some unnamed Arrancar with the help of Shinji and her brothers. Gin had a moment to see Shinji use an unknown spell and a mixture of his reiatsu to block Barragan's following attack. The buildings around them aged and crumbled, but Shinji stood strong as Nel came at the Espada from behind.

Stark, in the meantime, was half-helping, half-carrying Retsu-san away from the center of the battlefield. Her face was streaked with blood from somewhere beyond her hairline, but her eyes were open and still had enough focus for her to deflect the incoming cero that would've hit them both from behind. The last Gin saw of them was Stark taking her to what could only be an impromptu medical station and the waiting arms of both her lieutenant and Hime-chan.

Gin just kept moving. Sliced through anything and anyone who tried to stop him without thought or care. Without even noticing the cuts that lined his arms or the itch of blood and sweat on his skin.

He flew by Kenpachi and his gang, hearing nothing but a feral cackle and a little girl's laughter, before coming upon Hiyori-chan. But she seemed to be holding her own well enough, aided and abetted as she was by Tessai and the shop kids.

Other faces were a blur. Hisagi. Koma-kun. Even Soifon. Gin didn't care. All he could do, all he could think about, was that frosty tendril. That red ribbon leading him in deeper.

Perhaps it was dumb luck then. Maybe it was fate. Either way, Gin wouldn't have even noticed her had she not all but run into him. He couldn't really blame her for it though. She was breathing hard, face dirty, stumbling over the dead Arrancar at her feet. Dizzy and drunk with concussion and maybe even something a little worse. Her normal escort and comedy duo, Abarai, was noticeable by his absence, but Gin had a vague memory of seeing him somewhere along the way.

But he wasn't nearby. Not even close. Yamamoto was the only one who was, and his opponent was perhaps the most frightening of them all. The small hovering gem that had seemingly caused this whole mess in the first place. Such a tiny thing to be standing up against the captain-commander's might. Still having more than enough power to summon Hollows directly from Hueco Mundo and turning them to Arrancar before their very eyes.

Kuchiki it seemed had been attempting to cull their numbers, but strong though she was, the girl was one against dozens and losing fast. Gin had a stray thought to help clear a path free for her, give her a way back to her brother and friends, but it flitted off as glacial fingers pulled at his sleeve and beckoned him deeper.

He didn't get far. Just a step or two, Kuchiki still within arm's length. He felt it then. Felt and heard it both. The roar of Yamamoto's power followed by a deafening crack as the Hougyoku split in two. There was silence for a second after that, and even the dragon dragging him along was silent as Gin turned to stare.

Then, the world went white. It became a haze of roiling reiatsu that blanketed everything like a scorching mess of despair and destruction. Air was driven from his lungs as Gin fought to stay standing; he heard the noise of the battle grind to a complete halt around him, heard the others gasp and groan and struggle. Kuchiki was sickly white at against his legs, forced into him by the press of reiatsu that was too strong for her to fight.

A broil of power rolled over them both as Yamamoto stood fast and strong in the face of everything. Moving closer and closer to the Hougyoku. Touching it. Folding his body and his reiatsu over it just as it exploded outward.

The old man went down in a blaze of flame and light. Like a dying star that gave out one final flare before going quiet and dim. Gin didn't need to see it to know that Yamamoto was dead, and honestly, he couldn't with the dazzling in his eyes. The old goat had survived wars and insurrections for well over two thousand years, but this reiatsu, this power was too much for him. Too much for any of them as it raced outwards in a tsunami of fire that the old man hadn't been enough to stop.

Gin had seconds that seemed like a lifetime to see it approach. To feel the girl huddled at his feet and make a choice.

Gin could survive this. Maybe. Probably. But Kuchiki wouldn't.

It took him milliseconds to reach out and grasp the back of her uniform. A few more to figure out where her brother was – not too far but not  close enough to make it in time – and pull his arm back. Gin didn't so much as give Kuchiki the younger to her brother as launch her his direction with the hope she'd escape the blast or at least be protected by her brother's energy.

He didn't see Kuchiki the elder catch her; his vision was ruined by a wash of white and power that tore at him and nipped his soul. That blasted him apart and knitted him back together in the span of seconds. He'd been too close. Far closer than anyone else. But somehow, he was still standing afterwards. Singed and stumbling as he glimpsed both Kuchiki siblings together in a sea of melted glass and steel, protected only by pink petals.

It took him a few seconds, and he was slower than he'd been before. But then, Gin was moving again.

By the empty and crumbling streets of a fake Karakura. Around downed buildings that smoldered with the heat of a thousand suns. Through ash that coated his tongue and stole his breath.

Gin kept going. And going. And going. Untill…

He found Toushirou exactly where he knew he would. Right in the thick of things. On one side of Aizen with Jyuushiro on the other. Toushirou was bleeding. Half on his knees and half off. There was a sword at his hand, but it wasn't Hyourinmaru. No, Hyourinmaru was elsewhere, tucked into Aizen's sash next to his own zanpakutou's sheath.

How the bastard had managed that, Gin couldn't even begin to guess. He couldn't even begin to care as he approached the fight as swiftly as he could.

Aizen barely even seemed to be trying as he battled against the two captains in an effortless dance. He was so confident, so at ease. So arrogant. He wasn't even using his full power. Hadn't even drawn up an illusion for them to fight in his stead.

He knew he didn't need it to win. Not when Hyourinmaru was tucked into his own sash and his opponent fought him with a borrowed blade. Not when Jyuu-san was now on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his mouth and belly. But the older man was ignored as Aizen stepped by him seemingly without a care in the world. Almost thoughtlessly.

But Aizen was never thoughtless. He was always controlled, calculating. Cruel.

Smiling. Eyes bright and falsely pleasant. Even when Toushirou cut through his sash and sent Hyourinmaru skittering across the ground. He just smiled. And kept smiling.

Gin ran faster. He reached for Shinsou, but somehow, she wasn't there. She was gone, vanished, and he hadn't realized until then. He could still feel her, pulsing like she was right next to him, but she wasn't. Which didn't make a damn bit of sense, but he didn't need it to. He knew where she was now. Knew who held her clenched in his trembling and tired hands.

Shinsou was real, but she shouldn't be. It was just Aizen's illusion. His lie. But she was there with Toushirou. And she listened when he called.

" _Shinsou_."

Aizen actually had a vague gleam of shock to his eyes as he sidestepped the blade aimed at his head. Shinsou in action. Gin had never seen her from this end, but she and Toushirou both were a beautiful sight. A whirl of white and silver. Shikai for a Shinigami who wasn't her own.

That meant something. Meant holding the key to Gin's soul. Meant knowing him truly. Seeing him as he really was, accepting it and being accepted in return.

Gin knew it. Toushirou had to. Aizen definitely did.

And for a moment, a flicker of something dark and vicious crossed that pleasant face. For a moment, the truth of what Aizen was showed on the surface. And no, he most definitely hadn't forgotten who had stolen away his most powerful servant. The prize of his collection. Hand-taught to heel at his side for over a century.

Aizen hadn't forgotten that at all. Just as he hadn't forgotten that Gin was so close by. And he was just about to return that favor.

Gin was nearly there now. But it was too late. Too late as Aizen dodged a strike, threw a kidoh, and lifted his blade.

Gin threw himself forward without thinking.

The strike would've hit Toushirou in the neck. Would've beheaded him.

It hit Gin at heart-level, and he felt muscle and bone both as they were sliced through. His own blood was so very red on the ground. Red and  gushing. Bleeding him dry until all he could see was red and Aizen standing in front of him. Vaguely surprised. But still smiling. Already glancing up to see where Toushirou had gone. Already starting to move forward.

Gin was on his knees. He didn't know when that had happened. Didn't know anything but the narrowing of his vision and the failure of his own hands as they tried to support his weight. The brush of his useless fingers over something cold and metal that bit into his flesh with a dragon's fangs.

Gin could suddenly breathe. Could think. Feel the fog as it was driven back. See Aizen's back to him and Toushirou so close but so far away.

Somehow, he found the strength to curl his fingers around a hilt. Empty sheath at his knees and sword already in his hand. Waiting. Beckoning. Calling.

" _Hyourinmaru_."

And a wall of ice shaped like a dragon roared over Aizen. He had a second to start to turn, but even he wasn't fast enough. He was stunned, truly astonished. Looking Gin's direction just as a silver blur appeared in front of him.

His eyes had an instant to widen, but that's all Aizen could do. Shinsou's edge struck him right at eye level even as he was buried underneath a veritable glacier and a bolt of lightning slammed into him out of fucking nowhere.

If Gin had been up to it, his mouth would've dropped open in complete amazement. More so when that lightning was joined by a wave of power that had to be shunko, the largest Getsuga Tenshou he'd ever seen, four ceros, no less than a dozen overpowered kidoh spells – three of them byakurai – and what had to be a combined blast from Benihime and Zabimaru.

There was silence then, interrupted only by the drip of blood and the whoosh of a burning body as it hit the ground. Gin let his eyes leave the mesmerizing sight of Aizen Sousuke's funeral pyre in just enough time to see the cavalry arrive. Retsu-san was the first on the scene, somehow beating both Soifon and Yoruichi-san, but all three were quickly followed by others.

Not too far away, Jyuu-san was upright now, supported by Kyouraku with one hand pressed to the growing crimson splash on the cloth covering his stomach. But the other was strong on the hilt of his own sword, and lightning struck down twice more. Overkill maybe. But one could never be too careful.

Toushirou was to Gin's right. Closer than Jyuu-san but harder to glimpse with all the people in between. Somehow, Gin still managed to see a flash of blue-green eyes and exhaled all in a rush. Let himself slump down and his eyes flutter closed.

He was so tired. Tired and sticky with blood that kept sliding down his skin. Hyourinmaru had rolled free from his limp fingers to rest by his knees. His chest was on fire, and air was heavy in his lungs. His feet had gone cold despite the lingering heat of the day. He felt numb all over. In little patches that grew as time stretched on. Numb but still hurting. If that made any sense at all. Numb and in agony. Slumping down further. Sinking and settling into the debris.

A hand touched his then. Small but calloused from too much sparring and sword-work. It was accompanied by a kiss of reiatsu like frost and snow. So refreshing. So familiar.

"Hey, Toushirou," Gin managed and gave what he hoped was a smile.

He honestly couldn't tell if it was. He was too numb, sinking further to the ground even as hands tried to hold him up. His eyes were cloudy, his vision a haze of blue-green mixed with white and ever encroaching black. He smelled mint then, crisp and clean as breath ghosted across his face. And there was screaming. Shouting. Words that meant nothing. Words that meant something.

His name.

But it was all so distant. It was all so far away.

"Ichimaru-san!"

"Ichimaru!"

" _Gin!_ "

And he fell into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happens right after part 23, _Lonely Dusk_.


	30. Minutes to Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gin was glad to be here, to sleep in his own bed in his own house tonight. Gladder even that Toushirou was here, too. (#24: Goodnight.)

"The haori suits you."

Gin made a face in the mirror, but Retsu-chan simply smiled behind him. The haori was brand new, and Gin suspected that they'd destroyed all his old ones. The fit was good, as expected, but the lining wasn't quite the right shade. It was too green, almost a turquoise, and no matter how much he nagged them, they kept insisting it was fine.

"It's a good color," Retsu-chan added as if reading his mind, and quite possibly, she had.

Gin just shrugged, ignoring the pull in his chest and shoulder. Aizen had barely been dead a fortnight, and a week of that, Gin himself had been completely out of it. They were only just now letting him leave. And with a haori that wasn't right to boot.

"Remind me why I agreed ta this again," Gin commented as he finally turned to face her.

Retsu-chan gave a laugh. "You enjoy being a captain and make a wonderful one."

"Not ta mention that yer already down a few," he inserted, but it was pleasantly enough and held no bitterness. "That's the same reason they let Toushirou back even though he went AWOL fer months."

"Perhaps," she allowed. "Or perhaps it wasn't so much allowing as begging to have the pair of you back. You're both heroes after all. Brave Hitsugaya-taichou who killed Aizen and even braver Ichimaru-taichou who played the spy against him for so long."

Gin snorted with disbelief. "That's a complete an' utter bold-faced lie."

"But they don't know that, my dear." Retsu-chan inclined her head and smiled wider. "There is no one alive left to contradict us, and it is true after a fashion. Really, what harm will it do?" She looked at him with something that'd be smugness on anyone else. "Besides, I'm captain-commander now, and if I say so, it must certainly be true."

"Not ta mention there's no Chamber 46 ta countermand ya," he put in with a raised brow.

That earned him a glowing look that was a tad too pleased. "And there won't be for some time. A very long, long time."

Which basically meant never if she had her way. There'd never be another Chamber 46 to lead them into evil and ruin. Despite the innocent cast to her face, Gin knew that she was already scheming. Already dreaming up better ways for Seireitei and Soul Society. A world in which most of the population didn't live in abject poverty and misery. Where blood and death were the exception and not the rule. Where there was no room for someone like Aizen to form again, much less rise to power.

"But such is the way of life," Retsu-chan murmured, moving to stand beside him with all the warmth in the world. "I'm glad to have you back, my dear boy."

The kiss pressed to his temple was unexpected but not unwanted. He just leaned into the touch before she stepped away.

"And now, I have a rather pressing engagement," Retsu-chan said with a final squeeze to his shoulder. "I dare say I've left him waiting long enough."

She turned with far too much bounce in her step. Gin couldn't help but grin.

"Send Stark-kun my love," he called after her, but all he earned was an extra sway in her hips as she departed.

Gin looked after her a minute before moving to make his own exit. Izuru was outside waiting for him in the early morning air and greeted him brightly. Retsu-chan would kill him for going in to work today, but Gin really didn't want to have to sit and stare at the inside of his house all day, and he could only imagine the horrible state it'd be in since he'd not only been gone over a year but had left as a traitor in the process. It was better to turn towards the third division, a far too knowing gleam in Izuru's gaze.

The streets were full of both Shinigami and whispers as they went. Nobody around them pointed, but they didn't need to, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. He might've left as a traitor, but he'd returned as a hero, and suddenly, Gin was everyone's favorite topic of conversation and attention both.

Just about the only ones not gossiping or simpering like some schoolgirl with a crush were the Kuchiki siblings they passed on the main thoroughfare out of the fourth. Kuchiki the elder was aloof as always, above the din of the onlookers and standing apart from everyone but his sister. But he did deign to give Gin a nod as their eyes met, while Kuchiki the younger gave a near bow, and Gin tried very hard not to remember the exceedingly awkward meeting they'd had the day after he'd woke up for good. Yeah, he'd saved her life, but that was an experience he'd rather blot from his mind forever thanks very much and please don't mention it again. Like ever.

Besides, she was Ichigo's nakama, and he'd have been seven sorts of upset if Gin had let her die. That and Kuchiki the elder was scarier than Aizen had ever thought of being, and it was nice to be on his good side for once. He'd even gotten Gin a get-well gift and everything, though he probably should've thought the better of including wine when Rangiku was around.

Somehow, Gin managed to make it to his office and his desk without any incident, a miracle in and of itself considering his life in general. But he wasn't in his seat five seconds when the first knock came at his door. It was his fifth-seat, eager to check in on him and even more eager to bring him breakfast without asking. She was followed by the third-seat and then his two sixths. Next a dozen more of his officers and several handfuls of his unseated members. A whirlwind visit by Kyouraku-taichou, who left seconds before his dear Nanao-chan showed up, and then Izuru's little friends Hisagi and Abarai-kun. They were followed by even more of Gin's subordinates until the entire division and nearly half of the others seemed to find the excuse to come by. Some to ask after his health. Others to bring him gifts. Even more just to say hello. All to welcome him back.

Rangiku stopped in for lunch and stayed until it was far past time to go home, but she was knocked out on the sofa in the corner by then. Sleeping with her head on one arm and the other dangling off the side to brush the floor. Gin adjusted her to a more comfortable position, and Izuru found a blanket to tuck around her legs. She was still fast asleep by the time Gin locked up, and he didn't doubt that he'd find her there when he came by next morning. She'd spent far too much time by his bedside the last few weeks and even more trying to keep her division afloat without its captain.

Izuru offered to let Gin stay at his house for the night, but that was interrupted midway with a yawn, and Gin quickly remembered that Rangiku wasn't the only one who'd been under so much stress lately. He waved off his lieutenant and left on his own. The walk back was quiet, but he still earned far too many stares and almost star-struck looks for his comfort. His house wasn't exactly as he'd left it over a year earlier, but it was close enough. By far, most of his possessions were there and intact, and someone had been by recently to clean much to his surprise. There was even food in the cupboards and a fresh watermelon on the counter just waiting to be cut and shared.

The door to the back porch was open halfway when Gin walked by on the way to his bedroom, and he hesitated a second before going to peek out. Toushirou sat along the edge, bare feet tickling against the grass, sandals and socks in a pile to his left. He was still in his haori, and Gin caught a glimpse of the lining when he stepped outside and Toushirou turned to look at him. It was a pale blue, the same shade that Gin saw every time he looked in a mirror. Just as the inside of his own haori was an all too familiar blue-green.

Suddenly, Gin sensed a set-up, and he had a feeling he knew exactly who to blame. Sometimes, Retsu really was too meddling for her own good. Either her or Jyuu-san. Or even Yoruichi-san. Maybe all three.

He just shook his head, and Toushirou gave him a puzzled look as Gin sat down next to him.

"I'll tell ya later," he said, already moving to take off his own socks and sandals.

It was nice out here, unseasonably warm but not too hot since the sun had set hours before. Shinsou was a pleasant weight in his hand as he slid her from his sash, and she gave a flare of greeting as he placed her next to Hyourinmaru off to the side. Both blades hummed with contentment as they lay next to each other, and Toushirou glanced at them with something like amusement.

"How was yer first day back?" Gin questioned then.

Toushirou gave a lazy shrug. "About the same as yours probably. It felt like everyone and their brother stopped by, but somehow, I lost my lieutenant around lunch time when Ukitake showed up."

Gin chuckled. "And how is Jyuu-san? Haven't seen him since he escaped the fourth the other day."

"The same as always," Toushirou replied, and there was affection in his voice though he'd deny it until his dying day. "Relieved that we won. Sad that the old man died. Happy that Unohana has lifted so many exiles and invited the two of us back. Apparently, there's already talk about throwing some sort of huge festival. If Hirako's to be believed, Urahara and the Shiba clan are supposed to be putting together something spectacular."

"Well, they do have a good reason ta celebrate," Gin pointed out, toes threading through the silken grass. "The Vizard and co even more than the rest of ys."

His companion gave a tilt of his head in acknowledgment, but he remained quiet for a moment. Almost contemplative. Tired as his foot brushed Gin's before digging into the ground. He was still too pale from his own stay in the fourth, and the dark circles under his eyes lingered. Gin didn't have to guess why. Despite the end of the war, despite their warm welcome in Seireitei, all was not well.

"How's Hinamori-chan?" Gin asked quietly, almost tentative.

Toushirou grimaced, and that was answer enough.

His childhood friend hadn't dealt with Aizen's betrayal well at all and his death even less so. She was still so lost, so twisted inside. So certain that the lies she'd seen were nothing but the truth.

"She's… dealing." Toushirou rolled his shoulders, brushing against Gin's arm. "They won't let her out of the fourth for a while, and Kotetsu and Yamada will be watching her closely even longer. She didn't realize I was in the same room earlier; she didn't even see me." He bit his lip and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," Gin said, and he meant it.

He knew his own role in things, his own guilt. This was just as much his fault as Aizen's, and he'd done little to stop it.

Toushirou sighed. "I know. I don't blame you." He glanced at Gin, eyes dark but lacking accusation. "This is just the way things are now. It was Aizen's doing, and she'll just have to accept that he wasn't the saint she thought."

Gin opened his mouth and then promptly closed it. There wasn't really anything he could say to that, and they sat in silence until Gin had just about decided enough time had passed. But then, he heard Toushirou's stomach growl and fought a subsequent grin.

"Ya want some watermelon?" he inquired instead and made a move to rise, but a hand on his arm stopped him short.

"Later," Toushirou responded, grip slacking but not going away entirely. "I want to stay for a while longer. It's nice out here."

He slid this toes into the grass once more to emphasize his point, even as a breeze tugged at both of them. Despite their Shinigami robes and the change of venue, Gin was suddenly reminded of the garden behind Urahara-san's shouten. How often they'd gone out during the scorching summer to sit in the cooler evenings. How good it'd felt to be side by side and together so openly. How easy it'd been to watch the plants sway in the wind and let the world pass them by.

He'd miss that shop, Gin realized. He'd miss it even though he was home now. He'd miss his time there, miss the people.

But maybe not as much if they came to Soul Society like Yoruichi-san had said they would. Maybe even less so if Shinji and Ichigo and all the others visited often and eventually decided to stay. One day. Someday. All of them together like they should be. Friends and family and more.

He'd still miss it. Missed it already. But he'd missed Seireitei, too. Missed his house. Missed his division and his subordinates. Izuru and Rangiku and his friends. Retsu-chan. Jyuu-san. Even Kuchiki the younger and her brother.

Toushirou.

But he had them all back now and more besides. Yeah, it'd been hard. Yeah, it'd hurt. But he was back now, and things would only get better still. And even Hinamori-chan would eventually come around.

"It's good ta be home," Gin abruptly decided aloud, and it was.

He missed the shop already, but he'd be glad to sleep in his own bed in his own house tonight. He was glad to be here. Gladder even that Toushirou was here, too.

Toushirou actually gave something of a smile then, and his eyes lightened considerably.

"It is," he agreed, lifting his head up until their gazes met. Searching. Finding.

They looked at each other for a second before Gin found himself leaning forward unconsciously, only to be met halfway. Toushirou's mouth was warm on his, and a hand titled Gin's chin down further after the second kiss, lingering on his face during the third.

Afterwards, their breaths still mingled with the scents of mint and apples. They ate watermelon and watched the moon drift across the sky side by side and without regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is a shout out to an awesome Gin/Ichigo fic by my partner in crime, _Dracoqueen22_.


End file.
